Lessons in Love
by dixiedreaming
Summary: After returning from her honeymoon, Scarlett overhears a conversation which challenges her preconceptions and makes her wonder whether she hasn't been missing out on something all along. What impact will these unfolding revelations have on her life and how will they affect her relationship with a certain Captain Butler? STORY NOT ABANDONED. Sorry for the delay, will update soon.
1. Chapter 1

Scarlett sighed as she eyed up her lackluster cards, annoyed that once again it looked like she was destined to be on the losing side. Usually, she was unbeatable at whist for the game lent itself well to her naturally calculating and analytical mind and it was a rare occasion when she found herself unable to outsmart her opponents.

Of course, this was the first time she had been saddled with the flibbertigibbet Bridget Flaherty as a partner. The woman was simply hopeless and Scarlett had spent the better part of the afternoon trying and failing to make up for her many mistakes. It didn't help that Bridget was already in her bad books for having dared to wear a green dress to last week's gathering at the Gelert's when Scarlett had already informed everyone of her own intentions to do precisely that. As such they both ended up arriving in almost identical ensembles and the ensuing embarrassment had been enough to ruin an otherwise pleasant evening.

Her irritation rising as she recalled the event, Scarlett decided she wasn't willing to hand over anymore of her hard earned money to the likes of Mamie Bart and Sylvia Connington. Throwing down her cards in a fit of peak, she stood up and declared she was going to go and see where Mammy had gotten to with their drinks.

The other women startled slightly at her sudden movement, for all were more than a little intimidated by her superior social standing and infamous bad temper. Taking in their reaction, Scarlett smiled to herself, enjoying the esteem in which they held her and the power it allowed her to wield over their heads. It was particularly satisfying to be assured of their loyalty as since returning from her honeymoon in New Orleans, Scarlett had seen little of the Old Guard. Indeed, were it not for Melanie and Aunt Pitty's visits and the odd, increasingly infrequent calls from the men Rhett had helped save in the Shanty Town raid, the Butlers would have been almost completely cut off from the entire pre-war population of Atlanta.

Most days this growing divide didn't trouble Scarlett much, the mills and shop kept her far too busy to contemplate such matters and, besides, she had found herself a gang of new and better friends to pass the time of day with, friends who didn't drone on endlessly about the past but instead chose to live exclusively in the present. Friends who talked about interesting, exciting things like balls and fashion and money and who shared Scarlett's own unsentimental, practical outlook on life.

Still, it was a shame that more people hadn't come to marvel at her new home. After months of living at a suite in the National and having to visit the contractors and builders each day to hurry them along and make sure everything met her exacting standards, Scarlett was a little put out that so few of her old enemies had had the chance to feel themselves grow sick with envy at the sight of the plush red carpets and opulent, multi-mirrored walls that adorned her new abode.

It was to this end that she had decided to host a party, or 'crush' as it was now fashionably termed, in a few weeks time. The gathering would be a perfect opportunity for her to invite every last old cat or jealous, plain-looking spinster who had ever dared to say spiteful things about her and show them just how wonderfully her life had worked out in the end. She knew that once they saw her beautiful home, larger and more splendid than anything this city had ever known before, they would be forced to take back their hateful opinions and admit that she was indeed a fine lady after all.

She'd invite her new friends as well of course, not so much because she actually wanted them there, but because it would show everyone just what gay, fun people she now chose to associate with. People could be so nasty towards her new set, Melanie was often quietly disapproving whenever Scarlett mentioned them while Rhett was downright contemptuous most of the time and even her own servants seemed to turn up their noses when she invited them round to the house.

Take Mammy for instance, Scarlett had clearly asked for their drinks to be brought through to the parlor almost an hour ago and yet still there was no sign of them appearing. It was insolence of the worst kind and Scarlett would not stand for it. After all, she was the mistress of this house and deserved to be treated as such. Ellen would certainly never have allowed such blatant disrespect to go unpunished and therefore neither should she.

Storming down the hallway towards the kitchen, Scarlett felt her temper flare when she pushed open the door to find Mammy and Lou speaking together in hushed tones, their frowning faces and unhappy eyes making the topic of their conversation all too painfully clear.

Outraged that her servants should think it fitting to talk behind her back in this manner, Scarlett's voice was angrier than she'd intended when she hissed, 'Just what do you two think you are doing? Standing round and gossiping like a couple of old maids when their are plenty of jobs that need seeing to. Why Mammy, I told you to bring in drinks for me and the other ladies ages ago and still you haven't done it. If you're getting too old to carry out my orders then kindly let me know and I'll happily put you on the first train back to Tara tomorrow morning.'

'Dem ain' no ladies, Miss Scarlett.' Mammy said, unrepentant as she stared her employer down. 'Why, Miss Ellen an' Ah done raise yo' better dan dis. Dem women is wurthless.'

Shocked by Mammy's bluntness and more hurt by the reference to her mother than she cared to let on, Scarlett had no choice but to turn and walk away before her emotions got the better of her, calling over her shoulder that Mammy had better have brought in the drinks in the next ten minutes or face suffering the consequences.

 _How dare she speak to me like that?_ Scarlett fumed as she made her way slowly back to the parlor, fighting to regain control of herself as she went. To be criticized by her own servant was simply too big an affront to be tolerated. Blocking out the small voice in her head which recognized the truth in Mammy's words, she instead forced her anger to switch directions, pushing it towards the man who always seemed to bear the brunt of her ire these days.

Rhett was after all guilty of being far too lenient with Mammy, always consulting her on how best to run the household or deal with the children, bowing to her opinion as if it was the only one that mattered and often completely disregarding Scarlett's own thoughts on the subject in the process. There was something downright unmanly in the way he deferred to her. It was a strange notion as Rhett was without doubt the most masculine person she had ever met and yet still it seemed to her almost as if he reverted back into a little boy in such moments, almost as if his longing to be accepted by her overrode his usual domineering tendencies.

She'd argued with him about it already of course, in fact there were precious few subjects that they hadn't seemed to argue about recently.

It was strange as they had gotten on so well together throughout their honeymoon and then again when they stayed together at the National. Rhett had been so gentle with her during that time, relinquishing his usual jeering bluster in favor of giving into her every demand and going out of his way to make sure all her whims became a reality.

She should have known such unusual behavior could not be expected to last, the man was a first-rate skunk after all and he was bound to tire of playing the doting husband after a while. Still though, she could not help but regret that it had ended so soon, it had been nice not to fight with him for a while, to know she could turn to him with her questions and concerns without fear of evoking his scorn or mocking laughter and that no matter how tiring or frustrating her day might have been, at night he would always be there to wrap her up safely in his arms and make everything feel just that little bit better.

Almost the very moment they first stepped through the door of their new home though his attitude had changed considerably. Gone was a tentative intimacy they had shared while away and in its place settled a cool form of detachment. It was almost as if, in passing over the threshold, they had somehow transformed from husband and wife into polite but distant acquaintances.

Recently though even that thin veneer of politeness had faded away, replaced instead by cruel jibes and loaded, uncomfortable silences. She didn't know what had brought about this change in him for certainly she had done nothing to provoke it. She treated him in exactly the same way she always had and couldn't understand why this no longer seemed to be enough for him when he'd never taken exception before.

Sometimes when she turned around quickly or glanced at him subtly out of the corner of her eye, she'd catch sight of that old cat at a mouse hole stare and wonder if it was just her imagination or if his lips really were a fraction more pursed nowadays, his jaw a little more strained as if it was beginning to pain him to have to continue sitting back and waiting instead of simply pouncing upon his prey.

Part of her wanted to know what it was that he was waiting for, to ask him why he looked at her so strangely in these unguarded moments, but in the end she decided it simply wasn't worth the effort. The man had always been a mystery to her and no doubt always would be; in all the time she had known him she couldn't once recall him ever having given her a straight answer in response to a personal question and she didn't have the patience to try and decipher his usual riddles anymore.

If he wanted to, he would tell her and, if not, she had plenty to be getting along with anyway. Rhett was only a small part of her life these days and if she missed the closeness that had sprung up on them after the wedding then she would certainly never allow herself to admit it.

Nearing the parlor door, she paused for a moment to flatten her skirts and roll her shoulders as if shaking off all the unwanted thoughts she'd managed to stack up since leaving the kitchen.

'Did I tell you Alice Gelert came to see me yesterday?' Mamie Bart said, her voice floating out into the corridor and bringing Scarlett up short.

'No, whatever did she want?' Bridget asked, her common brogue utterly foiling her attempts to sound like a upper-class lady as always.

Indeed, the three of them were always trying so hard to sound refined around Scarlett, taking her plantation-owning heritage as a sign of her good breeding and hoping to break their way into Atlanta's upper echelons by riding on the back of her skirts.

'She's in the family way and wanted my help getting out of it.'

Pressing herself against the wall, Scarlett bit her tongue to stay quiet and keep them ignorant of her presence. They rarely dared gossip around her for fear of revealing their seedier natures and she was eager to hear more of what went on behind closed doors. Of course she knew a lot of it already, Rhett having decided to divulge all the dirty little secrets they and their husband's sought to conceal one night when they'd lain awake together at the hotel, feeling oddly close as they whiled away the hours before dawn by laughing loudly at the absurdities of others.

'Again? Why, that must be the third time in the last two years.' said Sylvia in disbelief.

'Try the fourth.' Mamie Bart whispered. 'You know how she is though, I've told her time and again how to go about avoiding it, but she won't have it, says it's not half so pleasurable that way. It'll most likely kill her, but she just won't stop. You'd think she was still a newly wed the way she carries on.'

'Speaking of newly-weds,' Sylvia said, her voice dropping even lower so Scarlett had to strain to catch her next words. 'I notice Mrs. Butler isn't expecting yet. Strange given the fine figure of a man she's married to, don't you think?'

'Ah, but you know how these country ladies are. They bring them up so pure and sweet that they think letting a man kiss them on the hand is the height of passion.' Sneered Mamie. 'A girl came to work in our establishment once who'd been brought up on a farm just this side of Greenville. She told me her mother used to say that being with a man was something that us girls just had to endure. Endure, by god! Can you imagine what that kind of thinking would do to you? Of course, after two weeks of 'enduring' she was soon quick enough to change her mind!'

'You think Scarlett feels the same way?' Bridget asked skeptically.

'I do, and what's more I'd be willing to put money on it too. You only have to look at the stiff way she walks around to know she ain't never been introduced to the good things in life.' Mamie claimed, the cracks in her speech beginning to show.

Indeed the three of them had all started to regress back into their former, shadier selves, stripping off the guise of respectability like last night's ball gowns as they relished the chance to bring their self-professed leader down a peg or two.

'Poor girl,' said Sylvia, 'she doesn't even know what it is she's missing out on.'

The note of pity in her voice shook Scarlett out of the stupor she'd been languishing under for the last few minutes and made the blood rise hotly in her cheeks. How dare these women feel sorry for her? She who had so much more than they would ever have! How dare they look down on her like she was beneath them in some way?

Mammy had been right all along; they weren't ladies. They weren't even close.

To think she had invited them into her home only to have them speak so badly of her behind her back, laughing at her as if she had anything to feel ashamed of. If she did not enjoy marital relations it was because they were not meant to be enjoyed, every well-bred women knew as much. In fact, it was one of the very first things you learnt during your days as a belle. That these women thought differently was simply a sign of their common natures, their low-born statuses, their...

'My dear, what are you doing lurking in the shadows? Didn't your mother ever teach you it's considered bad manners to listen in on other people's conversations?'

Startled, Scarlett spun around only to come face to face with a grinning Rhett Butler. Her heart seizing, she prayed hard that he had not been standing behind her for long, that he had not heard the vulgar things those dreadful women had been saying.

The very thought of it caused a sudden bout of nausea to overcome her and, unable to look at him for fear of what she'd find in his eyes, she kept her face down, studying the carpet so diligently one would have thought she had never seen its like before.

'Scarlett?' he questioned, a note of concern entering his voice as he took a step towards her.

Unwilling to let him get close, she sprung back. 'I'm not feeling well. Could you please tell Mammy to ask our guests to leave, I need to lie down for a while.'

'Certainly.' he said, reaching out a hand to touch her feverish cheek. 'Do you need me to help you up the stairs?'

'No, no, I'll be quite alright.' She stammered, pulling away and passing him quickly as she hurried up to her room.

Shutting the door forcibly behind her she fell upon the bed and pressed her face down hard into the pillow, wishing desperately that she'd never befriended such terrible, vile women in the first place.

Oh god, whatever must Rhett think of her if he had heard? To imply that she...no, she would not let herself think about it. Besides, surely Rhett would have seemed angrier if he'd caught their words? For all his nonchalance, he was a proud man and Scarlett did not think he would stand to hear his wife slighted so in their own home.

Unless...no, it was far too horrible a thought...she would not believe it, she wouldn't...but, well, it was Rhett and...what if...what if...

What if he agreed with them?

* * *

 _First off, I owe everyone a really massive apology for leaving my earlier story, Sunshine through the Rain, unfinished. I was really busy for a couple of weeks after posting chapter two and when I finally sat down to start chapter three I drew a complete blank. I've had bouts of writer's block before, but this felt like a complete whiteout in comparison. I'm still not completely over it where that story is concerned, but the idea for this one popped into my head a couple of days ago and I hope that by writing it I'll be able to get back into the GWTW groove and go back and finish STTR. I hate abandoned stories and I promise I will see it through._

 _In the meantime though, this is a shortish tale about Scarlett changing her perceptions about certain things and how that might have impacted on her relationship with Rhett. I always feel like any hope of them making it work disappears after Scarlett's reaction to her pregnancy, so I'm giving myself until then in the book's time frame (pages 845-862 in my copy) to get them together- it may or may not be enough!_

 _Hope you enjoy and please review- I love hearing all your thoughts._

 _P.S. This will probably need to be moved over to the m section in chapter 2 or 3 so remember to change your filter settings if you want to find out how it ends (fingers crossed you do!)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for all your reviews, favorites and follows- I can't tell you how ridiculously excited I get every time my phone buzzes with a new email notification, or how disappointed I am when it turns out to just another facebook update! I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know your thoughts and I'm so glad you like the new concept. For those of you more than ready for things to heat up, don't worry, as this will be the last chapter before we move to the M section. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

Clutching the pillow tightly between her hands, Scarlett tried and failed to push the awful thought from her mind. For what if Rhett really did share the opinion of those awful women? What if he too thought she was lacking in some way?

It was true that since moving into their new home Rhett's nightly attentions had grown more infrequent. She hadn't given it much thought up until now for marital relations were hardly something she reveled in. Indeed, during her previous two marriages she'd done her utmost to keep them at a bare minimum. While Charles and Frank had been easy men to put off though, Rhett had proven himself to be anything but. During their time in New Orleans he'd been insatiable, forever touching and kissing her as they lay in bed together and whispering heated, sinful things in her ear until she could not help but give in to his advances.

Part of her inability to refuse him stemmed from the fact she almost didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. With Charles and Frank it had always been painfully clear what was about to happen, they had both been such awkward, hesitant creatures, stumbling over their words and making their intentions so blatantly obvious that it had been the simplest thing in the world for Scarlett to head them off before they got too far.

Yet with Rhett there was no such warning, no jarring action or sudden change in demeanor, every gesture and word slipped seamlessly into the next, building her up and cocooning her in warmth so that by the time she regained her senses and realized what was about to happen, she was too relaxed to protest and couldn't have raised a hand to stop him even if she'd wanted to. He was altogether far too dangerous a creature for her liking, able to play with her emotions and cloud her senses until she lost all sense of herself, clinging to him desperately as if he were the only solid thing in a world turned suddenly upon its head.

It had been almost a week though since he had last touched her in that way. Up until now she'd been almost relieved for his advances brought forth thoughts and emotions she could never quite name or grasp but which always left her feeling confused and vaguely unsatisfied, as if she were on the cusp of something extraordinary, so close to going over, and yet somehow unable to get there. She'd never felt anything remotely close to this with either of her previous husbands and had assumed that this was as good as it could reasonably be expected to get. But what if Mamie was right? What if there was a whole host of things that she'd never known existed and so had no clue how to go about asking for?

What if she'd been doing it wrong her entire life?

Perhaps that was why Rhett's ardor seemed to be waning. Perhaps the reality simply didn't live up to his expectations. After all, he'd told her when he proposed that he was only marrying her because he wanted her more than any woman he'd ever seen and couldn't get her any other way. He'd kissed her that day too; kissed her with so much passion and heat that for a moment she'd wondered if perhaps everything would feel different with him, if the things that had once seemed like the most unpleasant of duties could morph into something quite different if only he were the one doing them to her.

To some extent that had been true, laying with him wasn't painful like it had been with Charles or mortifying like it was with Frank; indeed she had one very hazy memory of a night where she'd drunk far too much champagne, a night where she'd woken up half of New Orleans by singing at the top of her lungs on the carriage ride back to the hotel. In this memory she recalled soft, teasing touches evoking sounds unlike any she'd ever made before and a look of stunned amazement burning down upon her from eyes so black they put the moonless night's sky to shame. Try as she might though, she could not remember anything more than these few heated flashes and part of her felt resentful that she had forgotten the rest, almost as if something crucial had been snatched away from her before she'd truly had the chance to understand or enjoy it.

Maybe if she could remember the remainder of that encounter she wouldn't feel so vulnerable now, so achingly exposed, as if the women's words had stripped away the hardened shell she'd been building up ever since the day she'd first learnt of Ashley's engagement. Somehow their few comments had managed to cut into her far more deeply than any of the old cat's barbs ever had, reducing her back to a scared newlywed, trembling on the bed while she waited for Charles to come to her. She'd felt so young that night, so ill-prepared for what was to come and now she couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't more of that terrified girl lingering inside her than she'd previously have liked to believe.

Rhett was a man of the world after all; he'd certainly never hidden his past from her or denied his involvement with other women. Why, he'd even admitted his connection to Belle Watling, a woman so loose and immoral that she made Mamie Bart look like the patron saint of innocence and virtue. Scarlett shuddered as she considered for the first time how laughable she must seem to Rhett in comparison, how ignorant and silly and green.

These last few nights he'd even headed out after supper, barely stopping to kiss her goodbye in his rush to get out of the door. Fury now rose up in Scarlett, white-hot and blistering, as she realized that ghastly saloon had probably been his destination all along. To think that she'd even begun missing his presence at night as she lay awake in a bed that suddenly felt too empty for comfort. That she'd spent the last few days with a persistent gnawing feeling deep in the pit of her stomach, unable to concentrate properly on her businesses while wondering what was wrong with him, when all this time he'd been under that awful woman's roof, gambling and drinking and doing God knows what else.

She wondered if he discussed her with Belle, if they'd ever laughed at her naivety together over a nightcap or spent the small hours of the morning condemning her for her inexperience.

If he had, she would never forgive him. To be pitied by the three would-be ladies downstairs was bad enough, but to have a woman like Belle sit in judgement of her? Why, she would rather divorce Rhett right now and board the first train back to Tara than allow that to continue on unchecked.

A knock at the door interrupted her dark thoughts and hurriedly she flipped over onto her back, smoothing down her dress in a bid to hide her ruffled state.

'Come in.' She croaked weakly, remembering just in time to play the part of the invalid.

'How are you feeling?' Rhett asked as he entered the room, a frown marring his face as his eyes darted worriedly over her form.

'I'm a little better, thank you.' She replied, propping herself up against the headboard.

'I brought you some water and a slice of bread.' He said as he drew nearer. 'I consulted Mammy and she thought it best not to try anything richer until you're recovered.'

Biting back a retort about Rhett's over-reliance on her most obstinate of servants, Scarlett nodded her head and reached to take the glass out of his hand.

'Thank you Rhett.' She said after she'd taken a sip. 'That was very thoughtful of you.'

'My dear,' he said, clutching his breast and adopting an expression of mock terror. 'I fear the situation is more dire than first assumed. I hardly recognize this docile woman in front of me.'

Scarlett glared up at him over the rim of the glass.

'Ah, now there's the wife I know and love. I was worried for a moment.' He said, and though he still teased her as always, Scarlett couldn't help but notice his eyes appeared softer than she had seen them in quite some time.

Staring into them she tried to decipher whether or not he had heard the women's remarks, but as always he remained an enigma, his thoughts and feelings kept deliberately away from his face, no doubt shut up somewhere deep inside that she doubted he would ever grant her access to.

On feeling her gaze, Rhett tensed up slightly, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he returned her searching stare with a cool, blank one of his own. Despite his efforts to appear unconcerned though, there seemed to be an underlying tension to his posture, almost as if he were waiting eagerly to see what the next moment would hold. Scarlett had no idea why that should be though and she cursed him soundly for his ability to hide from her so completely.

Frustrated, she broke his gaze, unnerved by the idea of sharing her life with a man she knew practically nothing about. It seemed unnatural, impossible even, that a husband could lay with his wife each night and wake with her every morning and yet reveal nothing of what was truly going on inside his head.

She remembered fondly a time before all this deception, back when they'd used to share secretive buggy rides together, idly whiling away the hours by telling takes of their childhoods and often helping the other to find resolutions to their current business problems.

She didn't know exactly when or why they had lost it, but somehow or other the intimacy they'd so unthinkingly enjoyed in those days had disappeared sometime shortly after they'd said their vows, receding further and further away until all they seemed to have left to share these days was a bed and a surname.

As if he could hear her silent thoughts, Rhett chose that moment to reach out and cup her cheek.

'Where are you wandering off to, my pet?' he asked curiously, stroking along her jawline with the tips of his fingers. The unexpectedly touch made Scarlett shiver slightly and, shutting her eyes, she found herself longing for a return to the time when his every action towards her had been this achingly tender.

Not receiving an answer to his query however, Rhett pulled back, and Scarlett had to bite her lip to prevent herself from sighing at the loss.

'What are you doing?' she asked in confusion when she opened her eyes to find him pulling off his cravat while toeing off his shoes.

'Well, my dear, when a man comes home early with the express intention of spending time with his wife, he traditionally prefers to be in the same room as her. Although, if you'd prefer me to sit in the drawing room and shout up the stairs to you, then I'm sure we could try it your way too.'

Before she could think up a retort, he had rounded the bottom of the bed and was lying himself down beside her, the arm closest to her extending outwards in a silent invitation.

This at least was one gesture she could still read just fine and after a few seconds of stubbornness which only made him smirk, Scarlett relented and moved into his embrace, laying her head upon his chest as his arms came round to encircle her.

Shutting her eyes, she breathed in deeply for a moment, enjoying the heady, masculine smell that was uniquely his as the thoughts that had plagued her this last half an hour mercifully died away and let her have some peace.

'I saw Mrs. Wilkes today.'

'Did you?'

'Yes. She invited us to dinner next week.'

Scarlett frowned. 'Who else is going?'

'Atlanta's finest, more's the pity: the Meade's, your Aunt and Uncle and not forgetting dear old India Wilkes of course.'

'Do we have to go?' grumbled Scarlett, already picturing a night spent pointedly ignoring the glares being sent her way from half of the guest list.

'And risk missing one of the social events of the season?' Rhett cried in horror. 'Why, my dear, how can you even suggest such a thing? Of course we shall go! I do hate to miss a perfectly good opportunity to be looked down upon after all.'

Unwillingly, Scarlett found herself smiling against his chest, an unfamiliar flush of affection rushing through her at the thought that for once she wouldn't be alone at such a gathering, that her and Rhett could stand proudly together as two of the most unscrupulous and disliked citizens this city had ever had the misfortune to welcome into its fold.

Sensing her laughter, Rhett happily joined in, causing Scarlett to bounce lightly upon his chest as it rose and fell beneath her. Opening her eyes to shush him, her gaze fell instead upon the unexpected sight of his open collar and the short, black hairs that lay beneath.

Her earlier thoughts returning with a vengeance, part of Scarlett itched to reach out and stroke them, to discover whether they felt sharp and rough like the stubble on his chin when he kissed her first thing in the morning or whether they were soft and silky like the ones upon his head that she secretly liked to run her hands through when she was sure he was sleeping.

Looking at them, it struck her suddenly how little she truly knew of his body, how much of it she had refused to even glance at, let alone touch. In fact, in the months since their wedding she had barely gotten to know him at all in that way, preferring to lie passively under him at night before hurriedly rolling away onto her side the moment that it was all over.

She'd never given the matter a thought before, but now she couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever wished she would touch him more. For, loath as she was to admit it, few things in life had ever made her feel as good as the sensation of his hands upon her. Often she could not help but arch up into his caresses, loving the molten, tingling feeling his fingertips could evoke when they stroked along her skin, raising goose-pimples in their wake and making her sigh from the simple tactile pleasure of it all.

Did Rhett wish that she would touch him like that too? He had never mentioned it before, but then recently she had begun to suspect that there were many things he wanted but chose not to ask for.

Alone, this would not have been enough to spur her into action, for granting Rhett's wishes, unspoken or otherwise, had never been one of her primary concerns. The conversation she'd overheard earlier kept echoing in her mind though and Sylvia's words in particular just would not let her be.

 _She doesn't even know what it is she's missing out on_ , she'd said.

 _Missing out on_ , as if marital relations were a party to which Scarlett had received no invite. She had always been a jealous creature and the idea that other, lesser women had gotten to experience something that she herself hadn't made her feel decidedly aggrieved. Surely after having put up with the foolishness of three different husband's she had more right than most to enjoy this supposed pleasure. It was positively cruel of Rhett to deny it to her and, if she had her way, she would make it impossible for him to hold out on her any longer.

Fueled by her sudden righteous anger, Scarlett's usual inhibitions faded away and, squaring her jaw in determination, she reached out an unsteady hand towards him.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm really sorry for the wait, but this chapter took so long to write I was beginning to worry I'd never get it finished. I know most of you are excited for the good stuff to start and while there's is a hint or two of that here, this encounter is more about explaining the problem than finding the solution- that should hopefully start around chapter 5 or 6 provided Scarlett and Rhett cooperate! Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think-writing sex scenes always makes me extra nervous! Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to review-your lovely words made my head swell so much I've had a hard time walking through doors this week :)_

 _Also, I included some dialogue from the book, it's written in italics to avoid confusion and all rights belong to MM and her estate._

* * *

Unused as she was to doling out affectionate touches, Scarlett's hand came down harder on Rhett's chest than she had intended, a slight slapping sound filling the quiet room as he suddenly ceased laughing.

Refusing to be put off so easily, she tried to rectify her mistake by rubbing clumsily over the area to soothe away the sting. Beneath her, Rhett's body instantly drew still, his muscles tensing up and his breathing growing shallow as if he feared the slightest movement might cause her to remember herself and pull away.

She paused for a moment, anticipating one of his usual jeers, but when none came she grew bolder still, tracing faintly across his broad chest until her hand disappeared under the folds of his shirt. She rubbed over his tanned skin in small, soft circles, enjoying the strange, prickly sensation his wiry hairs created as they teased against the palm of her hand.

This light tickle coupled with the novel, yet oddly addictive rush of power that touching him afforded her, caused Scarlett's belly to grow hot and itchy and she fought hard against a sudden, overwhelming urge to rub her legs together beneath the safety of her skirts.

In a bid to distract herself, she concentrated her attentions back on her husband, watching with wide, curious eyes as his body both relaxed and jerked under her scrutiny, seemingly uncertain of how it should react to being touched so delicately for the very first time.

Glancing up, she saw that his eyes had fallen shut, a small, incredulous smile playing itself across his face as if he were caught up in the midst of some pleasant, oft-imagined dream. Taking courage from his demeanor, she swept her hand further right, the side of her palm bumping up against the fleshy nub of his nipple and almost causing her to leap away from him in mortification.

A surprised grunt fell from his lips at the unexpected contact and, before she knew it, he'd flipped her expertly onto her back, her name leaving his lips in a hoarse, disbelieving whisper as he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her up into a heated, desperate kiss.

The breathe knocked clear out of her, she clutched at the hard muscles of his forearms, digging her nails into his skin as she surrendered to the feel and taste of him, parting her lips willingly under the impatient insistence of his and gasping slightly when she felt him draw her tongue into his waiting mouth, sucking on it sinfully and making her squirm excitedly beneath him.

This was want she wanted, what she craved in the middle of the night and what she'd unknowingly been missing these last few cold, disinterested weeks. Nothing but this could make her head swim and her blood rise and her body yearn for things that her mind, in all its enforced ignorance, could neither name nor understand.

If only every part of marital relations could feel as good as his kisses did, for then she too would know the supposed pleasures that the women downstairs had so crudely spoken of. Yet as delightful as they were, they always ended up frustrating her her for, though they seemed to promise so much, they ultimately delivered so little. In fact, Rhett's kisses often reminded her of the grand, insubstantial beauty that fireworks possess, able to illuminate the dark in sudden, magnificent bursts of color and light, before fading away to nothing mere moments later.

Today though, she reminded herself sternly, it would be different. Today she would uncover all the things that had been unfairly kept from her throughout her adult life. Today she would make her new friends eat every last word they had spoken against her.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the feel of Rhett's hands beginning to roam hungrily across her body. Stroking teasingly along her sensitive sides, they cupped her breasts reverently before reaching down to slide underneath her dress, long, skilled fingers eagerly seeking out the warm touch of bare, forbidden flesh.

Scarlett couldn't remember a time when she'd ever seen him lose his infamous control like this, his actions taking on a decidedly fierce, almost wild edge which frightened her nearly as much as it thrilled her.

Wanting both to reclaim control of the situation and hurry things along, she reached down and boldly began undoing his belt, the action breaking Rhett out of his haze and making his eyes snap up to meet hers in shock.

'Scarlett.' he said, his voice a rough murmur that scraped through the air as deliciously as the calluses on his hands slid along her inner thighs and sending a warm shiver shooting up the length of her spine.

Fumbling with the buckle, her fingers tripped over themselves in their haste to undo his trousers and she let out a soft cry of triumph when it finally came apart in her hands. Tugging his trousers down as much as was possible from her current position, she pushed at his chest until her let her up enough to turn around and present him with the fastenings which ran down the back of her dress.

Impatiently she waited for him to start undressing her, but after a long moment passed without any sign of movement, she swiveled her head around to look at him in confusion, worried that she had unwittingly done something wrong and he no longer wanted to continue.

One look at the fire that blazed in his dark eyes though and she knew that was not the case. Yet, still he did not move, kneeling up on the bed as if frozen in place, his mouth hanging open in a manner that would have made her laugh were it not for the heavy pounding of blood in her ears.

'Rhett.' she said, repeating his name more sharply when he did not appear to hear her.

The sound of her raised voice made him snap out of his stupor and quickly he moved to attend to her, bending his head from her view almost as if he were ashamed to have been caught out in such an uncharacteristically unguarded moment.

Mask firmly restored, his all too knowing hands set about making quick work of her clothing, removing her dress and unlacing her corset in mere moments before he moved down to take off her pantalets.

Left in only her underthings, Scarlett shivered slightly and blanched when Rhett made a move to lift off her chemise. The late afternoon sun was still streaming through the open window and she did not feel comfortable with the idea of him looking at her naked form in the daylight hours.

In a bid to distract him, she turned around and pulled him into another kiss, eager to recapture the feelings he'd unleashed in her in the moments before their lips last parted. Thankfully, her ruse appeared to work for Rhett soon lost himself in the kiss, his hands falling away from the hem of her chemise to tangle themselves back up in her hair.

Before he had a chance to recollect himself, she hurriedly reached down and kicked off her drawers, pulling him on top of her as she lay back down on the bed.

Laving the inside of her mouth with his tongue, Rhett's hand moved down to trail along her stomach, descending lower until it touched upon the soft curls exposed from where her chemise had ridden up in the tumult. Instinctively, Scarlett moved to intercept him, her mind revolting against the idea of him touching her in so intimate a place. Snatching up his wandering hand, she pulled until it came to rest safely on the mattress beside their tangled bodies, letting her legs fall open on either side of him in a silent, but firm, demand.

Reading her impatience, Rhett moved to align himself with her opening, pushing inside slowly as she gasped and bit her lip in reaction to the awkward, discomforting feeling.

Fully inside, he paused for a moment and cupped her cheek in his large palm, a look of rapture sweeping across his swarthy face before he buried his head in the crook of her neck, his hot breathe irritating her ear and making her flinch to get away. The motion exposed more of her neck to him though and, misreading her intention, he eagerly began laying kisses along its length.

After making sure to give her enough time to adjust, he slowly began to rock his hips back and forth, his large body rolling sinuously over hers as he started to stroke her in the most wickedly wonderful of ways. The constant rubbing sensation brought a small, sweet ache to the lower depths of Scarlett's stomach, the flicker of pleasure beginning to smolder seconds later when he picked up the speed and force of his movements. Reaching down, he wrapped one of her legs around his waist for leverage and, bringing his forehead to rest against her collarbone, panted heavily against the dampened, sweat-slick skin of her breast.

Screwing her eyes tightly shut, Scarlet tried hard to concentrate on the sensations he was creating, to overcome her natural reserves and forget all the lessons that had been so rigorously drilled into her prior to her debut as a belle.

Yet, try as she might, the sparks of her desire simply would not catch afire and, growing frustrated, she knew her body was crying out for something more. Hoping his kisses would provide the answer, she used her free hand to pull at the sensitive hairs of Rhett's nape until he raised his head and allowed her to fuse their mouths together again.

Rising up onto his elbows, the change in angle enabled him to slide deeper and suddenly Scarlett felt him brush up against something vital and electric within her. Something that, up until now, had lain hidden and untouched, a secret even unto herself. The sensations it provoked were almost frightening in their blistering intensity and, unable to fully process them, Scarlett's body jerked as if to get away.

Fearing he had hurt her, Rhett slowed his advances and she moaned impotently at the loss of feeling, the reassuring kisses he peppered across her face and throat preventing her from voicing her displeasure.

Opening her eyes to complain, she realized his thrusts had grown uneven and almost desperate in nature, the natural rhythm he had built up thus far beginning to break down as his breathing grew increasingly strained and heavy. Once more his hand slid down the expanse of her body in search of her center, only for Scarlett to tense up and wrench it back, interlocking their fingers tightly to stop him from trying again.

Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes back up and tried hard to chase a feeling that felt as it if were racing further and further away from her with each passing second.

Determined to try and reclaim it, she followed Rhett with her hips when he began to withdraw from her, raising her lower body off the bed in an attempt to retain contact and bring back that elusive pressure that had teased her body so sweetly only to flee before she'd had the chance to fully latch onto it.

Her unexpected action had an unwitting effect on Rhett however, causing him to grunt in appreciation above her, his whole body suddenly becoming taut and impossibly stiff as his movements seized up and he released a groan from the depths of his throat unlike any she had ever heard him utter before.

Before she knew it he had collapsed heavily on top of her, unable or unwilling to move off even when his weight became oppressive and she slapped him none to gently on the back to try and get his attention.

Seconds passed in which their breath slowed and the sweat which clung to their tired, sore bodies began to cool and stick. Wriggling in discomfort, Scarlett felt him soften and slip out, leaving her feeling every bit as empty and frustratingly unfulfilled as always.

Anger rose up in her as she realized that the women must have known she was listening and conspired to play a cruel trick upon her, for there was certainly no truth in the words they had spoken. No woman could find this indignity truly enjoyable. At best it was painless and slightly pleasurable, but certainly nothing more than that.

If anything she felt more disgruntled and unsatisfied than she had before they had begun, her body demanding something that she now knew there was no real solution to. A dim feeling of disappointment washed over her at the thought that there was nothing special to be had here after all, no secret joy which she would finally be able to uncover. It was almost as if she had been promised a beautiful present only to unwrap the box and find nothing inside.

Caught up in her thoughts, she missed the look of open devotion that lay on Rhett's face in the minutes after their union, the wonder of seeing her instigate their relations having broken down his defenses and left him unusually vulnerable and exposed to her scrutiny had she only had the presence of mind to turn her head ad see it. Overjoyed, he took hold of her chin and lifted her eyes to his, hardly daring to imagine what emotions he would uncover in their precious, emerald depths.

Unaware of the light in his eyes and missing the way his whole body seemed to tremor in barely restrained anticipation, Scarlett scowled up at him with all the anger of her wounded pride and resentment of her tense, disappointed body.

She felt a fool for ever believing that martial relations could bring her happiness and could not bear the thought of how hard he would no doubt laugh if he ever discovered the true intentions behind her earlier actions. Too hung up on hiding her own feelings, she missed the look of crushing devastation that swept across his features as he looked into her hard, unloving eyes. Nor did she notice the supreme effort it took for him to smother his emotions and wipe his face blank once more.

'Let me up.' She demanded crossly, pushing at his chest until he rolled off of her and she could make her escape. Needing to put some space between them, she climbed quickly off the bed and made her way over to the vanity. She took a moment to compose herself before looking into the mirror and casting a disparaging glance over the image of flushed cheeks and swollen lips that greeted her. Eyeing the haystack that was once her hair with disdain, she picked up a brush and began to slowly untangle it, glad of a task that would prevent her from dwelling on all that had just occurred.

'I shouldn't bother with appearances if I were you, my dear,' Rhett said from the bed, the earlier passion stripped from his voice so that it once again resembled that of a cold, impersonal stranger. 'I shan't be staying in for supper and those charmless ladies you so misguidedly deem to be your friends have already left for the day.'

Scarlett studiously kept brushing her hair, ignoring the pang that passed through her at the knowledge that, yet again, he would be dining away from home. No doubt he would go to Belle's and tell that terrible woman all about their afternoon activities or, worse still, select one of her girls for the night as if it had meant nothing to him at all.

Men were such vile, horrible creatures, she fumed silently as she yanked out a large knot, running around inflicting their passions on wives they didn't even have the good grace to remain faithful too. Well, from now on, he could bed as many fancy women as he liked, for never again would she be foolish enough to encourage his attentions.

'You know I pity you my pet,' he went on after she did not answer, his voice becoming smoother and icier with each syllable in a way that told her he was positively itching for a fight. 'For one day the Republicans shall be soundly evicted from their seat of power in Georgia and then where will you be?'

Biting her tongue she refused to take the bait he so keenly offered up, reminding herself that in situations like this nothing angered him more than the inability to get a reaction out of her. The knowledge that he knew her well enough to provoke her until she snapped was one of his most perverse joys in life and though once he had professed that he could stand anything from her but a lie, in truth Scarlett knew nothing upset him more than her continued indifference.

Sure enough his voice grew lower and more dangerous as he continued, ' _When the Democrats get a governor and a legislature of their own, all your new vulgar Republican friends will be wiped off the chess-board and sent back to minding bars and emptying slops where they belong. And then you'll be left out on the end of a limb, with never a Democratic friend or a Republican either, well, take no thought of the morrow.'_

Despite her determination not to react, Scalett could not help but laugh at his words, for truly the idea of the Republicans being ousted was too silly to be entertained.

 _'The Democrats will never get back,'_ she said contemptuously. _'All they do is make the Yankees madder and put off the day when they could get back. All they do is talk big and run around at night Ku Kluxing.'_

 _'They will get back,'_ he stated firmly. _'I know Southerners. I know Georgians. They are a tough and bullheaded lot. If they've got to fight another war to get back, they'll fight another war. Things are going to get so bad under the benign rule of our good friend Rufus Bullock that Georgia is going to vomit him up.'_

Scrunching up her nose in distaste, Scarlett chastised him for his foul language. _'You talk like I wouldn't be glad to see the Democrats come back! And you know that isn't so! Do you think I like to see these soldiers hanging around, reminding me of-do you think I like-why, I'm a Georgian too!'_ she cried, losing grip of her temper as she fought to make herself understood.

She knew that part of the reason the Old Guard hadn't come calling was their belief that Scarlett had switched sides, defecting over to the Yankees and leaving the rest of the South to rot. It wasn't true though, sure she had to pretend to be civil to them, to act as if she were sympathetic to their situation in order to keep her businesses from coming under attack, but underneath it all she was every bit as proud a Confederate as those who had fought and died for the Cause. It was bad enough to have the old cats of the town thinking such unfair things about her, but she had thought that Rhett of all people would understand her true motives and was hurt by the realization that perhaps that wasn't the case after all.

' _I'd like to see the Democrats get back._ _But they won't. Not ever. And even if they did, how would that affect my friends?'_ she argued, forgetting that after the events of this afternoon she no longer liked her so called friends anymore anyway. _'They'd still have their money, wouldn't they?'_

Rhett's lip curled up nastily at the mention of money, but she ignored his spiteful expression. _'If they kept their money. But I doubt the ability of any of them to keep money more than five years at the rate they're spending. Easy come, easy go.'_

Rising suddenly from the bed, Rhett bent to retrieve his trousers. Scarlett tracked him in the mirror, sensing that their argument was reaching its climax and watching him warily in case he made any sudden movements. She needn't have troubled herself though, for words had always been his preferred weapons of choice. _'Their money won't do them any good. Any more than my money has done you any good. It certainly hasn't made a horse out of you yet, has it, my pretty mule?'_

Enraged, she dropped the brush with a clatter and spun around to face him. He knew how badly Mammy's words had wounded her and yet he still chose to mock her with them. And to think she had been silly enough to try and reach out to him, to hope that this man, who seemingly lived only to hurt her, was in any way capable of bringing her pleasure! Well, she certainly knew better now.

'Get out!' she cried, not wanting to be in the same room as him for a moment longer. 'Get out this instant and don't come back until you're ready to say you're sorry.'

Chuckling lightly to himself, Rhett buttoned his shirt and swung his jacket jauntily over his shoulder before walking over to her. 'In that case,' he murmured silkily in her ear, his actions a spiteful mockery of his earlier lover's caress. 'I certainly wouldn't wait up.'

Furious, Scarlett yanked her face from his grip, turning away so she wouldn't have to see the cruel smirk that was no doubt painted straight across his smug, arrogant face. Oh how she hated him! Hated the way he always remained so calm and unaffected, the way he could get to her so easily when nothing she ever did seemed capable of touching him in the slightest.

A moment later she heard the door to their bedroom open and then he was gone, leaving her alone and hopelessly adrift in a room still heavy with the scent of their recent coupling.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks so much for all your Chapter 3 reviews, I know things didn't work out the way most of you hoped and I wasn't expecting half the response I got back. It's so great hearing all your thoughts and it motivates me to power on through the 'oh God, I don't know what to write' moments. I'm sorry to say this chapter is mostly filler, but it was necessary to include in order to move the story along. I'm off on holiday for two weeks starting Monday, but I'll try and have either an extra long chapter or a double-bill ready for you upon return. Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon._

* * *

The air was just beginning to turn cooler as Scarlett made her way up the path to her front door, her steps slow and ponderous despite the falling temperature. She'd spent the day at the store overseeing a new delivery, although in truth she'd gone more as an excuse to get out of the house than because her presence was actually needed. Her staff may have irritated her frequently with their many shortcomings, but even they were capable enough to be able to process a few new boxes of shipment without causing a major incident.

The day had been long and tedious and yet still she dawdled on her way home, idly watching the sun disappear beneath the roofs of the houses as she tried not to think about the frosty atmosphere that no doubt lay in wait for her.

It had been four days now since their fight. Four, long, hostile days in which she had sulked and pouted and played every other card in her extensive repertoire in order to try and coax an apology from her husband's stubborn lips. Such tactics had never failed her before, indeed Frank and Charles were wont to shrivel up at the first sign of her displeasure, swiftly withdrawing their scant words of disapproval and all but begging her to grant them forgiveness.

The ability to control her husbands so easily and completely had, up until now, been one of the few real benefits that nuptials brought and she had fully expected to continue on in this vein with her third marriage. Rhett, however, was proving himself to be more than a little adverse to the idea. Obstinately, he had held out against her reproving stares and put-upon sighs, reacting with cool disdain whenever she let her displeasure be known. Often he simply ignored her, deftly changing the topic of conversation or fixing her with a bland, deliberately obtuse gaze until she had little choice but to drop the issue. Sometimes he even went so far as to leave the room, going upstairs to play with the children or vacating the house all together.

The last two nights he'd stayed away until long after supper had been cleared from the table, returning home with the scent of whisky on his lips and a hard, unapproachable gleam in his eyes. On both occasions, he'd gone straight to his study without speaking so much as a word to anyone, shutting himself up inside its dark recesses and remaining there until late into the midnight hours.

Meanwhile Scarlett had lain awake upstairs, tossing and turning in a bed that suddenly felt far too empty for comfort. Despite her anger, she'd found she still missed the reassuring weight of his arm around her waist, for she had grown too used to falling asleep to the steady sound of his heart beat to be able to fully relax without it.

Last night she had even gone so far as to kick off the covers and get up, determined to go down and resolve the matter once and for all. She's only made it as far as the upstairs hallway though before the memory of the biting malice in his eyes as he'd stood before her and dared to liken his own wife to a mule soon made her change her mind and hurry back to the safety of her all too lonely bed.

In the early hours of the morning when he'd finally entered their room, she'd curled up on the far edge of the mattress and pretended to be asleep. Trying to ignore the heavy smell of cigars that clung to his tired frame like a second skin and the feel of his eyes burning holes into the back of her head as he lay down behind her, she'd been careful to keep her breathing shallow and even so as he should never know the effect his absence was having on her sleeping pattern.

This evening though, she knew she would have to do something to bring the situation to a head. Hurt though she still was by his spiteful comment, she could no longer put up with the tension that pervaded the air every time they were in the same room together.

The servants had picked up on their discord almost before it had even happened and Scarlett often caught Mammy eyeing her with a downcast, almost pitying gaze whenever she thought she wasn't looking. The atmosphere had gotten so bad in fact that even Wade, never the most observant of children, had begun to look back and forth between the two of them almost constantly, a confused frown puckering the corners of his little, earnest face.

The sight of was almost enough to make Scarlett feel guilty, for she remembered only too well the icy panic that used to clutch at her chest on the rare occasions she bore witness to her own parent's disagreements and the small, dark voice that used to sneak up inside her childish mind and convince her that she was somehow to blame for their discord.

Before she had the chance to reach out and reassure her son however, Rhett would always step in. Ever since she'd known him, he'd always had a genuine love of children and he seemed to be able to pick up on Wade's discomfort long before she herself took notice, fixing a gentle smile upon his face and engaging the child in silly, teasing talk about some nonsense or other until he'd forgotten all his cares and was laughing along happily once more.

Somewhere deep inside, part of her resented the bond that they shared and the way that, in drawing them together, it could not help but force her out. She disliked how open Wade was around Rhett, barely recognizing the boy who was so shy and hesitant in her presence as the same one who would shriek and jump playfully upon his step-father like some wild Indian unleashing a cry of war the minute he walked through the door.

It irritated Scarlett that he should have no trouble speaking to Rhett for hours on end when he could barely open his mouth enough to complete a sentence around her. Yet, she had no notion of how she should go about drawing him out of his shell, for she knew she did not possess Rhett's natural, easy way with children nor his seemingly endless stock of patience when it came to playing imaginary games and listening to their every thought and secret.

She was especially reluctant to disrupt the balance right now for the only time she'd gotten to see Rhett smile at all in these last few days was when he was busy engaging with her children.

She did not know why it disgruntled her so to see him focus all his attention on them, to reward them with the smiles and laughter that used to be hers alone. Nor did she know why it should pain her to watch his eyes scan the room for Wade and Ella when once he'd have sought only her.

He was such a tricky, changeable man and in all the time she had known him he had mocked her, teased her, flattered her and abused her, but never, until now, had he ignored her. Over the years she had watched many people strive to win a mere fraction of the attention he so freely dished out to her, watched as they fought to speak to him at parties and reserve a seat alongside his at concerts. Most had wanted his help in getting a business idea off the ground and it always made Scarlett feel rather smug to see him brush them off with a curt word or bored stare when he was always willing to listen to her troubles with the mills and store no matter how small or trivial they may be.

He was still a wanderer at heart; nothing seemed to hold his attention for long, and yet somehow or other Scarlett had managed to command his notice for almost eight years and counting.

She'd always taken his continued regard for granted though and it was only now that it seemed to be waning that she realized just how much she had come to enjoy and rely upon it over time.

It felt strange to miss something she'd never known she had, almost like realizing it had been summertime only when the first cold drafts of winter began to blow in.

She was surprised at how much this divergence in terms of his attention niggled at her, how used she had gotten to being his main focus over the many years of their acquaintance and how reluctant she now was to give that position up. Many times over the last few days she had thought about trying to win back his affection. Considered putting on a pretty dress and flirting with him until he forgot all about the world that existed beyond the perfection of her her white skin and flashing, emerald eyes.

She'd thought about how easy it would be to draw him back in; a coy smile here, a few flattering words there and he would be hers once more. She'd do it too if only he didn't seem so utterly unconcerned by their estrangement. Not once in these last four days had he made any attempt to pacify her or say sorry for his boorish behavior. Far from admitting his guilt or buying her some darling trinket or other in order to demonstrate his remorse, he had had the nerve to walk around the place looking angry and hurt, as if he were the one who was owed an apology.

Well he could die waiting for all she cared, for as long as she still had breath, those words would never pass her lips. She had nothing to feel bad about and she would not let him try and wriggle his way out of the situation by twisting it around until it became her fault. He was such a artful creature after all and, if she was ever to get the upper hand in this marriage, it was vital she hang on until he surrendered first. If she didn't then he'd only go around thinking he could do and say exactly as he pleased all the time and Scarlett didn't even want to imagine the words that would start coming out of his mouth if that were the case.

Still, she could not pretend that his prolonged silence wasn't starting to wear on her nerves. He was after all the only person she was able to speak to entirely honestly and her life was beginning to feel awfully silent without his teasing, lazy drawl to accompany her every action and word. Just today in fact she had stumbled upon an irregularity in the stock sheet that she wanted to get his opinion on, but knew that the matter would have to wait a few more days until he inevitably abandoned his pride and came grovelling to her side.

A small smile played upon her face at the thought of the great Rhett Butler bowing to her will and it was this that made her feel strong enough to open the door and face what lay inside.

She had barely stepped over the threshold however when the urge to turn straight back around again hit her with some considerable force. The sound of Ella's frantic cries were echoing through the large hall, piercing her ears and threatening to bring on the head ache that had been teasing the corners of her brain for the better part of the afternoon.

'Mammy!' Scarlett called out sharply, hoping her servant would deal with her daughter and give her enough time to sneak a glass of brandy from the cabinet before she had to face her children and husband.

The dull, muffled sound of heavy steps upon a thick carpet alerted her to her servant's approach and, before she'd had a chance to slip into the dining room, Mammy had rounded the corner, a red-faced and tearful Ella sniffing pitifully in the cradle of her large arms.

'Miss Ella done been cryin', Miss Scarlett.' Mammy said upon approach, her words rendered rather unnecessarily given the fact Ella was currently wailing loud enough to wake the dead.

'Whatever is the matter with her?' Scarlett asked, unsure whether to be relieved or annoyed when her daughter's eyes widened fearfully at her mother's cross tone and she finally quietened down a little, burrowing herself deeper into the cushion of Mammy's breast as she stifled her sobs.

'Ah think she missin' Mist' Wade.'

'Missing him? Why, where has he got to? If he's playing with Beau, then go and tell Melly we need him back right away. It'll be dark soon anyway and it's about time he came home.'

Something about the way Mammy paused before answering brought a shiver of foreboding to Scarlett, for she knew better than most how difficult a task it was to silence her most bull-headed of servants.

'Did you hear me? I said I want you to go over and bring him back.'

'Yes'm, I heard you. But he aint at de Wilkes's haus.'

'Well, where is he?' Scarlett asked impatiently, rubbing a hand over her aching forehead.

'He gone, Miss Scarlett.'

'Gone?' she repeated dumbly, 'Gone where?'

'I sho doan know, Mist' Rhett done take him dis mornin' after yo' gone.'

For a moment relief washed through Scarlett at the thought that Rhett was away from the house. If he'd taken Wade out for the day, then she'd have a little longer to relax before having to endure yet another evening of stilted silence in his company. She was contemplating how best to get rid of Mammy so she could go and fetch that brandy when the look on her servant's face brought her up short.

'When are they expected back?' she asked, something warning her that she was not going to like the answer to her question one bit.

A suspicion that only grew as Mammy dropped her eyes and refused to speak up.

'Mammy, what time will they be back by?'

'Dey aint comin' back dis night Miss Scarlett. Dey aint comin' back fer weeks. Mist' Rhett gwine be gone fer a long time, he done take his and Mist' Wade's bags an' everythin'.'

The shock of Mammy's revelation knocked the wind out of Scarlett's sails so completely she was surprised she didn't sag down heavily onto the plush carpet beneath her feet. Seeing her servant's worried look though, she quickly remembered where she was and fought to right herself, feeling the anger well up inside of her as the realization that Rhett had not only run away from her, but had dared to take her son along with him too, fully began to sink in.

'You let him take my son out of this house knowing full well that he might not bring him back for weeks on end?' Scarlett accused, her voice rising until it scared Ella and set her off on a fresh round of pitiful sobbing. 'He's my son. Mine! Rhett has no right to take him anywhere without my permission. You should never have let him go.'

'Ah done tried to tell him Miss Scarlett, but dere wuz no arguin' wid him. I tole yo' when yo' done mahy him, dat man is trash. Yo' doan listen to ole Mammy.'

'You should have come and got me from the store.' Scarlett argued on, not wanting to listen to Mammy's last words. 'I'd have come straight back if only I'd have known-why, I bet you even helped him pack Wade's things, didn't you?'

One look at Mammy's downcast face told her all she needed to know and, not trusting herself to speak, Scarlett pushed past her and headed straight for the dining room.

The room was unnaturally still, the table bare of its usual settings as if the whole household had ground to a standstill in light of Rhett's actions, the usual suppertime preparations put on hold as the shock of his departure reverberated throughout the empty mansion.

Marching up to the drinks cabinet, Scarlett poured herself a glass of brandy so full it overflowed onto the wooden counter top and spilled liberally onto her dress when she lifted it to her lips with a shaking hand.

 _Gone_. Gone without so much as a word or even the slightest suggestion of when he would be back. She had known things were strained between them, but never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine he would do something like this. To simply up and leave, running away as if their vows meant nothing, as if he were not tied to her by the very laws of the land.

That marrying Rhett Butler was a gamble had occurred to her many times before now, but she had never thought she would end up losing her hand in quite so spectacular a fashion as this. Scarlett cringed and gulped down another generous serving of brandy as she realized she'd have to come up with some excuse to explain away his sudden absence, would have to lie to her friends and family in order to keep idle tongues from wagging and those mean old crows from laughing at her plight.

Oh, he was terrible to expose her to their gossip like this. As if this town didn't think badly enough of her already. And to take Wade away with him too as if they boy was his son and not Scarlett's, as if the wishes of his own mother counted for nothing. Why, the nerve of that man was truly unbelievable!

No doubt he meant for her to come to her senses and realize she'd been at fault all along, to pine away for him during his absence and to get down on bended knee and beg for his forgiveness the moment he deigned to return. Well if that's what he thought, then he had another thing coming! She would not allow herself to be turned into one of those mousey little wives who bowed to their husband's every wish and command, too spineless to stick up for themselves and fight their own corner.

When he did decide to return he would find her as implacable and determined as ever, for as Scarlett drained the last of the brandy and wiped away the drops that had spilled clumsily down her neck, she vowed that she would see Rhett Butler humbled before her if it was the very last thing she ever did.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the delay, I didn't have as much time to write while I was away as I'd been expecting which, while good for the holiday, was a nuisance in terms of trying to get this finished! To make it up to you all for being so patient, this chapter is extra long and written from Rhett's pov as I feel it's about time that he got his say in all this. Not sure how many other chapters will be told from his perspective as, while I love writing him, I feel like the bigger journey in this particular story is Scarlett's. It might be fun to check in with him from time to time though, so let me know if you think his pov adds to the story or distracts from it and I'll go off of your suggestions. Thanks for reading._

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Rhett looked over at the two boys playing happily together and wished that they could stay longer. It was a shame to have to separate them when they were enjoying themselves, but he had promised to return Luke home by four o'clock and it was already fast approaching half past.

With regret, he stood up from where he had been reclining back against a fence post as he watched the pair chase each other around the field, cutting swathes in the long grass as they acted out battle scenes that, in their guileless innocence, bore little resemblance to the ones Rhett had been foolish enough to get himself caught up in another lifetime ago.

For all their naivety though, it was good to see Wade partaking in such games. Scarlett's son was far softer than a boy his age should be and Rhett hoped that the experience would do him some good. At home his only real companion was Beau, a child unlucky enough to have been born with an unfortunate combination of his mother's meekness and father's spinelessness.

Often a time he had returned home to find them running around the garden saving flies from the webs of spider's rather than pinning them down and pulling their wings off as Rhett and his childhood friends had been wont to do. At times such at these, he did not rightly know whether to be proud of Wade's goodness or to despair at it.

In Luke though, Wade had finally found a boy capable of showing him all the things he ought to have known already. He was a year older, a fact which had proven important enough to instantly gain him Wade's undying respect and devotion. Indeed, the younger boy had taken to following the other around like a puppy over this last week, drinking in his every word and happily going along with all of his suggestions no matter how fool hardy they inevitably proved themselves to be.

If he wanted to become more outgoing then he certainly couldn't have found a better teacher, for Luke was growing up to be a perfect little hellion, the boy having seemingly inherited his mother's brash fearlessness if not her fiery red hair.

His own blond curls and angelic face hid a mind as crafty and calculating as any con Rhett had met around the card table and he could only imagine the fixes Luke would get himself caught up in later in life. For now though he was a decent, if slightly misguided child, and Rhett used his visits to try and steady the boy's wilder impulses, attempting at the very least to prevent him from making the same youthful mistakes he himself had once fallen foul of.

Living in Atlanta, he did not have as many opportunities to see Luke as he would have liked and his visits would no doubt grow more infrequent still now that he had tied himself down in marriage. Indeed, were it not for his row with Scarlett and the worrying effect it had been having on Wade, he would most likely not even be here now.

The events of the last few days before he had left however had made it impossible for Rhett to stay. He had first become aware of how concerned the growing rift between himself and Scarlett was making Wade after he had witnessed him becoming pale and nervous at the dining table, fidgeting anxiously in his seat as he flicked his gaze worriedly back and forth between them. He had done his best to reassure Wade since then, to distract him with silly jokes and laughing words until he forgot about the sudden coolness that had descended upon the house in the wake of their argument.

While his actions had helped to calm Wade momentarily however, they had done nothing to solve the disagreement between himself and his wife, and he could see the boy closing back up every time he caught sight of some new slight or overheard a cutting word.

Seeing that his efforts were largely in vain and unable to feign civility towards Scarlett when his heart was still so sore, Rhett had switched tactics, deciding it would be fairer to all concerned if he simply stayed away until after the children's bedtime. In letting them enjoy supper with their mother without the meal becoming weighed down by their parent's bitterness, Rhett had hoped that Wade would come to forget that anything was amiss and return to his usual self.

The last thing he wanted to do was to make him unhappy for Rhett had always had a soft spot for Wade, enjoying the natural trust the boy had always seemed to place in him. He still remembered how Wade had liked to climb up onto his lap back during the war when the infamous blockader was detested and avoided by almost everyone else in the town. At many a gathering Wade would waste no time in reaching out his chubby arms to Rhett, demanding to be picked up by the man he appeared to favor above all others.

It was only a small thing, meaningless really, as Wade had been far too young to understand the complicated dynamics of the situation he found himself in, and yet it had always soothed something hard and pained in Rhett's chest to see the boy choose him over such lauded, respected men as Dr Meade and Carey Ashburn.

Wade had stuck by him during his estrangement and Rhett fully intended to repay the favor, to champion the boy even if he did not grow up to be the kind of man one would have hoped for.

That's why he had decided to bring Wade to New Orleans, the events of the morning of their departure having made the pair's swift exit entirely justified to his mind.

Scarlett had already left for the day by the time Wade had appeared at his study door, his wife all but fleeing the house in order to oversee a delivery they both knew she wasn't needed for. It was laughable really, the way they now ran from, instead of to, each other. Almost as if they were caught up in some dreadful, perverted reversal of normal married life.

Rhett had been feeling particularly resentful that morning too, for he had not managed to get a wink of sleep the previous night, returning from Belle's drunk and weary to find Scarlett curled up on her side of the bed, breathing in long, shallow breathes in a facile bid to convince him that she was already asleep.

It amused him to realize she thought he could be so easily fooled, as if he had not lain beside her each night since their wedding, studying her movements and storing up her every expression in a bid to make up for all the years her nighttime habits had remained a tantalizing mystery to him.

He knew her so well now that he doubted she would ever again be able to trick him successfully and part of him longed to tell her as much, to foil her childish charade and reveal just how deep his obsession truly ran.

Of course he did not though, admitting as much would be tantamount to handing over his heart only to watch her crush it cruelly and remorselessly between her claws, piercing him over and over again with her total indifference to his love until there would be precious little of it left to salvage from the wreckage.

Instead he had lain awake beside her, watching as the muscles in her back slowly relaxed and her breathing grew deeper and softer as sleep truly began to overtake her. He had listened to her emit that little, yearning sigh she always did before she dropped off; the one that never failed to make him want to swaddle her up in his arms and refuse to let go.

That night however it had only served as a reminder that he could not do such a thing, that his touch would repulse her just as it had seemed to do the afternoon when they had lain together for the first time during daylight hours. The afternoon where she had finally made the first move, a moment he had been waiting and hoping for since their wedding and one that he had begun to think would never come to pass.

It would be a lie to say he hadn't been disappointed by her tepid reactions to their lovemaking thus far. Disappointed, but not surprised. Knowing the poor quality of her previous two husbands, he had rightly assumed that she would have little true experience in such matters.

Nevertheless, it seemed inconceivable to him that a woman so skilled at swaying her hips so as to entice every man within a five mile radius and knowing exactly how to use her dimples to the most devastating effect, did not secretly possess a wealth of passion just waiting to be set free.

Even if that were indeed true though, it seemed that Rhett was not the one in possession of the key to unlock her dormant desires. While Scarlett no longer cowered away from his advances as she had done on their wedding night, she certainly had not come to crave them as he had so fervently wished she would.

He had always prided himself on being something of an expert in the art of lovemaking and had spent many a lonely night fantasizing about the things they would do together once she was finally his. Under the cover of darkness, he planned to spend hour after hour diligently teaching her the most sinful of lessons, soaking up her moans of approval and absorbing the way her body would relax and shudder as his tutoring began to sink in and take root.

He had been so sure he had what it took to make her happy, to show her a world no man had ever been capable of granting her access to before now.

Rhett sighed and ran a rueful hand over his tired face as he reflected on just how spectacularly that assumption had been proven false. Sure, he was capable of sweeping her off her feet with his fevered kisses, of making her melt bonelessly into his chest as he ran warm fingers over her cool flesh, but when it came to what mattered, to the actual act itself, she remained as aloof and unimpressed as ever.

The situation wasn't helped by the fact he seemed incapable of retaining his legendary control when encased in the heated, gloriously soft valley that lay between her legs. Despite his many years of experience, something about having the woman he loved so fiercely laying exposed and open beneath him made him lose his cool and revert back to the fumbling haste of an inept schoolboy, so desperate to prove himself worthy that he always ended up undermining his own efforts.

As if to make matters worse, there was also the small issue of Scarlett's modesty to be taken into account. He had known that she, like all well-bred women, would be somewhat repressed in this area. The barbaric notion that martial relations were meant for men's pleasure alone, taught so rigidly to all young girls before their weddings, was enough to make any lady reticent to engage in them. The women of his generation were raised to be wholly ignorant of the workings and needs of their own bodies and so inevitably became strangers even unto themselves, lacking the vocabulary to ask for even the most basic of pleasures.

It was an ugly, outdated concept that had condemned many a woman to a life of hopeless drudgery and Rhett hoped it would soon die out along with the Old South itself. The tragedy was that, even it if did, Scarlett would have been born too soon to enjoy its effects. It was nothing short of a crime to take a woman as fearless and bold as she and make her petrified of her own body.

For that's exactly what Rhett had discovered she was the first time he'd reached his hand down to touch her and felt her freeze up in pure terror, pushing him off of her as she'd snapped her legs together and blushed up to her roots in mortification.

No matter how many times he had tried to ease her into it, no matter how gently he had touched her or how many kind words he had whispered encouragingly into her ear, she simply would not be moved upon the subject. In the months since their wedding he had made so little progress in this area that he had all but giving up trying, resigning himself to the sad fact that some lessons ran too deep to ever be fully unlearned.

It pained him for there were so many things he wished to show her, so many different ways he yearned to please her which he now knew he'd never get a chance to enjoy. Their relations had taken on a stiff sort of formality in recent weeks for, though his desire for her had not waned one jot, he took no real satisfaction from the feeling that she was merely enduring his ministrations rather than enjoying them.

It was this sense that she only lay with him out of a twisted sense of wifely duty that had stopped him from initiating things quite so often in recent weeks. Sometimes though, his lust for her ran so strongly that he simply could not contain himself and, though he took pains to make the experience as pleasurable for her as possible given the confines of his severely reduced repertoire, he always came out of such encounters feeling slightly disgusted with himself, almost as if he had forced her into doing something she felt she ought not to say no to.

That's why he had acted so foolishly when she had reached out to touch him that afternoon on the bed. Never before had she thought to caress him in such a way, to bestow a gentle touch upon skin that longed to feel the smooth stroke of her slender hands along its weathered surface. How good it had felt to have her touch him and how greatly he had longed to lay back and stretch out beneath her like a cat in the sunshine, offering up his entire body to be explored and petted.

It was downright degrading how big an impact such a small gesture on her part was capable of having on him. He grimaced slightly as he considered how his old friends would no doubt laugh to see the mighty Rhett Butler, famous for being able to have any woman he wanted and yet falling for none, so humbled by the touch of a naive country girl almost half his age.

Of course those men would know nothing of the shrewd, calculating devil that lay behind his wife's deceptively sweet demeanor. If they did, Rhett thought they would almost be able to forgive him for how he had subsequently acted.

Certainly, he did not regret the way he had flipped her onto her back, the passionate kisses they had shared or the tender, forceful way he had taken her. What he did regret though was the emotion he had let seep into his eyes and face as he moved above her, the three words he had chanted silently in his mind with every thrust forward and the suffocating hurt he had allowed himself to feel as his hopes were ripped cruelly away from him at the very moment he finally thought they were to be realized.

Even now, a week and a half later, he did not know why she had done it. Perhaps she had felt a sudden need only to be disappointed by the reality of his embrace. Perhaps she had picked up some juicy tidbit or other from that former madam Mamie Bart and was curious to try it out. Perhaps she had simply wanted to torture him.

Whatever the reason may have been, the pain and humiliation of her rejection was more than his pride could stand and he had been quick to reset the balance by hurting her back, attacking the one area he knew to be the greatest of all her many weaknesses. He was not proud of calling her a mule, less still of the crushed look of betrayal that had flitted across her features before she managed to school them into a scowl, and yet he could not deny feeling a grim sort of satisfaction in the knowledge that, even when falling, he was still capable of tearing her down right alongside him.

The days afterwards had been some of the longest he had ever had to endure. Every time he saw Scarlett she would cast wounded eyes in his direction, silently demanding an apology he had no intention of giving her. His only solace during those dark days was the knowledge that Luke's birthday was coming up the following week and he would soon have the excuse he needed to get away from his maudlin wife and their damned, oppressive monstrosity of a house for a while.

He had known when he married her that the hardest challenge that lay ahead of him, aside from the near impossible task of winning her heart, would be the need to curb the wandering spirit that had always lain at the center of his soul. All his adult life he had been unable to resist the small, persistent voice which lingered at the back of his skull and urged him to forever seek out that which lay beyond the edges of the horizon.

After a childhood spent having his every instinct criticized and repressed, he had developed a burning desire to be free and it was this that had seen him assert many a time that he would never be a marrying man. Of course, this was before he had met Scarlett O'Hara. Even for the first few years after their precipitous meeting though, he had managed to hold out, refusing point blank to court her officially and believing that one day he would be able to find a way to acquire her without having first placed a ring upon her finger.

She had held back just as obstinately though and eventually he had resigned himself to the fact that, if he truly wanted her for his own, he would have no other choice but to marry her. It had surprised him that this revelation was not met with more resistance on his part and had feared that his sudden acceptance of matrimony and all it entailed signaled the premature onset of old age.

After seeing Scarlett walk down the aisle towards him though, her raven hair surrounded by a halo of white and her cautious eyes relaxing slightly as they fell upon his face, he had been enlightened as to the true reason for his dramatic change of heart as clearly as if it had been painted in ten foot letters above her head.

Since that day he had felt that old familiar itch to travel on numerous occasions, but had always tempered it by seeking Scarlett out and remaining in her company until it had safely subsided. After their argument though, he had lost the ability to do so and, when the urge rose up once again, stronger and more vehement than ever, there had been no way to distract himself from its pressing insistence.

He had tried with limited degrees of success to use the children as a buffer, playing with them more often and for longer periods of time than he would do normally as a means of convincing himself his continued presence was too important to their well-being for him to be able to leave.

It might have worked too, had it not been for Wade's unexpected arrival at his study door that fateful morning last week. Pale and tear-stained, Wade had looked so small and scared as he entered the room on unsteady legs, his large eyes darting round in every direction except Rhett's. Concerned by his disheveled appearance, Rhett had gotten up from behind his desk and walked over to kneel in front of the boy, his voice soft and reassuring as he'd asked him what was wrong.

It had been hard to make sense of Wade's stilted, garbled words, but eventually Rhett had heard enough to be able to deduce the cause of his upset.

It seemed that the aftermath of his parent's fight had been having a far greater effect on Wade than even Rhett had feared. That morning, when Lou had gone in to get him out of bed, Wade had woken to find his mattress wet and his nightshirt soaked right through. He had been so distressed by the discovery that he had refused to get up, angering Lou and making her raise her voice until the weight of the situation bore down upon him and he had begun to sob helplessly, jumping out from under the ruined covers and running downstairs to find his step-father.

Upon taking him in more fully, Rhett now noticed the damp stain and pungent, unmistakable odor that emanated from his soiled nightshirt and, unthinking of dirtying his fine suit, he had reached out and pulled the mortified boy into his arms, patting his head reassuringly as he cradled him close and told him not to cry for he had done nothing wrong and certainly had nothing to be ashamed of.

It had taken some considerable time, but finally Wade had begun to calm, pulling away from Rhett's shoulder to fix him with a mournful gaze as he whispered brokenly.

'Mother will be angry.'

The look of devastation on his small face pierced Rhett's heart and, though he had been quick to deny it, he knew that Wade was not wrong in his assessment of Scarlett's likely reaction were she to find out about her son's mishap. It was in that moment that he had decided to bring forth his planned trip to New Orleans and also to take Wade along with him when he went.

That the boy needed a break from the house and its overbearing atmosphere was self-evident and, if Rhett felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of taking Scarlett's child away without her permission, he soon swallowed it, reasoning that she would never agree to let Wade go if he were to ask and that he could not in all good conscience allow the boy to remain in a place where he would be chastised for a bodily function that lay utterly beyond his control.

Calling for Mammy, he had asked that she pack enough clothes for Wade to be away for a week or two and, while the ageing servant had put up a predictable protest against the idea, the fact she nevertheless obeyed his order told him that she too had been made aware of what had occurred during the night.

It had taken surprisingly little time for them to be ready to depart, the prospect of undertaking a top-secret cross-country trip with his step-father having returned some much needed color to Wade's pale cheeks and made him rush to get himself ready. He had been standing happily in the hallway chattering along to Mammy when Rhett came back downstairs with his bags and the welcome sight had helped to assure him that he was doing the right thing.

He had felt a pang of remorse as he said goodbye to a confused looking Ella however, knowing that she would miss them both dearly while they was away, but being unable to justify taking her along too and leaving Scarlett to return to an unexpectedly empty home.

She would be angry enough upon the discovery of their departure as it was without rubbing salt into the wound by taking both of her children away from her as well. Scant maternal instinct though she possessed, Wade and Ella were still her children by blood and Rhett respected her greater claim to them even if he didn't necessarily agree with it.

As he called now for Luke and Wade to come over to him and smiled in sympathy as he saw their faces fall at the unwelcome prospect of having to end their game, Rhett wondered if he should try convincing Wade to remain in New Orleans for a few more days.

As much as he missed Scarlett, and by God he did, her absence weighing on his mind every waking moment like a firm hand bearing down upon his shoulder, the thought of having to return home and face her was a far from pleasant one. It was not her anger that he feared, for he had seen her lose her temper too many times in the past, over such silly, minor causes, to be ever let it truly wound him now.

Indeed, in many ways he longed for her biting words and fierce, heated glares for at least in those moments he was afforded some slim reassurance that she knew he was there. Most days he wondered if she even noticed.

It was this cold, implacable indifference that cut him the deepest. He was not a man accustomed to being ignored by the fairer sex and it pained and frustrated him in equal measure to know that the only woman who had ever gotten under his skin was also the only woman who had absolutely no desire to be there.

It seemed impossible to him that she could care so little for him when his entire world philosophy had been hastily abandoned upon their very first meeting. Impossible and terribly, painfully cruel. In his darker moments he wondered earnestly if she were not some satanic demon dressed up in an alluring female garb, hell bent on making him pay for every last unsavory deed he had committed in his long and frequently lawless life.

It would help explain why their marriage had had so little impact upon her feelings towards him. Rhett had been so sure that their wedding would change her, helping to soften some of her sharper edges and allowing him to make precious inroads into her stubborn heart. He had tried so hard over the course of their honeymoon to win her affection, shamelessly pandering to her every whim and desire no matter how trivial or unwise they doubtlessly proved themselves to be. He had laid his dignity, his heart and -most importantly to Scarlett's mercenary mind- his checkbook, on the line and yet still he had been woefully unsuccessful in his bid to make her his.

She remained as unmoved as ever, too interested in running back to Atlanta and building the most grotesque looking house her hard little heart could dream up to pay him any real attention. What angered him the most was that he knew her architectural monstrosity was not being built with the intention of creating a happy, loving home for the couple and their children, but solely to make their neighbors jealous.

God, how he despised that house and everything in it. Each brick and room and staircase stood as physical evidence of her disinterest in him as a husband, proclaiming loudly for all the world to hear that she had married him for his bank balance and prestige alone. He could not even look at it without being reminded that she would always love only the money, never the man.

The thought of returning once more to live under its dark, foreboding roof was almost intolerable and, had Wade not begun yearning for his home and sister almost as soon as they'd debarked off the train last week, Rhett would have happily stayed away for at least another few weeks, maybe even months.

As it was though he knew it would be unfair to Wade to keep him in New Orleans any longer, much as the boy loved his new companion, even Luke's adventurous spirit could not compete with the childish games of the friends Wade had known his entire life and homesickness was beginning to overtake him frequently at night, often sending him running into Rhett's room, pale and teary-eyed, as he asked how much longer they had to stay until they could go back.

No, as angry and hurt as he still remained, and as loath as he was to be faced with Scarlett's apathy once again, of one thing Rhett was now reluctantly certain:

Whether he liked it or not, it was time to go home.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long, life has calmed down now though so updates should hopefully start coming more quickly again. I'd like to thank the two guests and flwrs81 for their encouragement, if I'm honest motivation to start writing again was low until I saw your reviews and decided it was time to kick myself back into shape! For all of you who are kind enough to take the time to review, I'd just like to say a huge thank you. Your comments are the only real reason I post these chapters online instead of just sticking them in my sock drawer and I'm truly grateful for all your kind words._

 _Before you read chapter 5, you might want to go back and reread the ending to Chapter 4 as I've made some changes. I felt like I was making Rhett a bit too soft by having him forgive Scarlett so easily so I've toughened him up and added a bit more angst to spice things up. Hope you enjoy._

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The short walk over to the Wilkes' house seemed to stretch on forever as Scarlett's reluctance made her feet drag slowly along the pavement. With every hated step, she cursed her errant husband's name, damning him soundly for putting her in such a miserable position as this.

All day long she had been expecting to hear the front door being flung open wide, had bent her ear to catch the sound of Wade's breathless shouts echoing down the hallway followed by the soft, reassuring patter of Rhett's light tread. She had been so sure that they would return today, that Rhett would remember the commitment he had made the previous week and come back to see it through.

No other man she knew would ever have made plans to attend a dinner party only to leave his abandoned wife to face the lions alone. Once, such behavior on his part would not have shocked her as, for all his expensive clothes and fancy cologne, she had been only too aware of what a dishonorable skunk lay beneath all that apparent finery. Yet, since their wedding, he had almost succeeded in making her forget his true nature.

His disappearing act last week though had reminded her sharply of his unscrupulous character and she was determined that, no matter how falsely flattering he may pretend to be in the future, she would not fall foul of the same trick twice.

Scarlett O'Hara was no man's fool and Rhett would soon come to rue the day he'd tried to make her so.

It angered her further to think that, even despite his departure, she had still trusted him enough to believe he would return in time for the party. He knew how much she despised such gatherings, how spiteful the Meade's and India Wilkes had always been towards her and how hard it would be to turn up and have to explain away the strange, sudden absence of both her husband and son.

And to think that she had almost been looking forward to going when he'd first announced it! That his teasing words and nonchalant demeanor had made her think his presence would act as a shield between her and the ever-present scorn of Atlanta's finest. What a fool she had been to think he would protect her; he who had always taken such delight in seeing her humbled.

No doubt he had had something like this planned all along. Even if their argument hadn't given him the excuse he'd needed to run off to God knows where, he would most likely have declined to attend the party anyway, no doubt deeming himself to be a cut above the company and deciding to head to Belle's for a night of drinking and debauchery instead.

 _If only I were a man._ Scarlett cursed inwardly as she neared the Wilkes' home. _Then I could think up some similar excuse to get out of going._

Though she was not normally one for hiding her face when things got tough, it would be fair to say she had kept an unusually low profile this last week, keeping her visits to the mills and store to a minimum and often only venturing out at times when she knew no one would be around to see her.

Despite thinking she had seen and done too much in her short life ever to be truly shocked again, Rhett's abandonment had managed to do precisely that and for once Scarlett felt properly wrong-footed, unsure of how she should act for the best in light of his startling actions.

Wanting to keep awkward questions to a minimum, she had made no social calls since he'd left, even going so far as to feign illness on the two occasions Melanie had tried to call upon her at home. She'd been planning on using the same trick to excuse herself from tonight's proceedings, but Mammy had warned her that if she, in her newly-wed condition, was to stay hidden from sight for much longer then other, more burdensome rumors would be bound to start circulating and that was the last thing she needed right now.

Besides, Melanie was never one to let sleeping dogs lie where her friends were concerned and Scarlett wouldn't be surprised if she'd have refused to serve Dr. Meade his supper until he'd first gone over to give Scarlett a full medical examination.

No, unpleasant as it would undoubtedly be, it was easier just to get this dinner over with and move on. Hopefully the other guests would have their own news to impart and Scarlett would be spared the burden of having to think up some elaborate explanation for Rhett and Wade's prolonged absence.

And, of course, no matter how ghastly the dinner may be, there was always Ashley to make it that bit sweeter. It had been almost a fortnight since she had last seen him properly and, though things between them had been a little strained ever since she'd announced her engagement, she was excited by the prospect of being close to him once more. Perhaps in the course of the evening she would even be able to draw him to one side for a time, to let him know that though Rhett may be far richer and more handsome than either of her previous husbands, he had not made any deeper impression upon her heart than Charles or Frank before him.

She could only imagine how such knowledge would cheer him. He had been against their marriage from the first and would no doubt be relieved to hear Scarlett had not let herself be seduced by Rhett's wicked ways. Indeed, in light of recent events she was almost beginning to regret not having paid more heed to Ashley's reservations upon the subject of her impending nuptials, able to console herself only with the thought that, if she did have to be married to a skunk, at least she had chosen one whose bank balance helped make his other, less appealing attributes more palatable.

Speaking of dishonorable people, Melanie hadn't been the only one to call at Scarlett's house over the course this last week; Sylvia, Mamie and Bridget had also all come a-knocking. They, however, had received a much less cordial welcome upon arrival. In fact, Scarlett had delighted Mammy no end by declaring that she could be as curt as she pleased when informing the three so-called ladies that Scarlett was not available to take their calls. Her servant had risen to the challenge with a noticeable vengeance and she doubted any of her new set would be in a hurry to try visiting her again any time soon after having found themselves on the receiving end of Mammy's famously sharp tongue.

Despite the satisfaction Scarlett had felt upon having them sent away however, she could not help but miss their company once they were gone. They may not have been the most refined of women, but there was something undeniably earthy and coarse about them which appealed greatly to her baser nature and Scarlett often felt more comfortable in their presence than she ever did when forced to be spend time with any of the Old Guard.

Her situation wasn't helped by the fact she had never been one for sitting round idly at home, whiling away the hours by reading or sewing or otherwise engaging in some such dull, womanly pursuit. Pastimes such as these repelled her for they had no discernible practical use, serving no real purpose as they did and being impossible to make a large profit from. Often a time over this last week she had felt that their only true function was to bore women to death and had feared that she herself might be succumbing to that very fate as she struggled through one mindless romance or another.

She tried to keep this thought in mind as she arrived at the Wilkes' house, reasoning that a night spent in bad company was still preferable to one spent alone indoors with a book.

Fixing a smile upon her face, she made her way up the path and spotted Dilcey waiting patiently at the door to relieve her of her coat. After exchanging pleasantries with her former servant she passed through into the parlor, trying hard not to let her smile falter when she saw that the Meade's, Aunt Pittypat and India had all gotten there before her.

Standing on the threshold of the room, she was half-tempted to turn around and head home before anyone had the chance to spot her. The cowardly nature of that thought though provoked her dormant fighting spirit and, squaring her shoulders, she grew determined to see the night through no matter what. Flicking her eyes dismissively from face to face, she felt herself breathe more easily when she caught sight of the woman who, through some strange twist of fate, had ended up becoming one of her longest and most steadfast of friends.

Melanie's small, heart-shaped face was flushed slightly with exertion as she flitted busily from one guest to another, mindful to make sure they were all well taken care of and that their glasses remained full almost to the point of over-flowing.

'Scarlett, dear!' she exclaimed happily upon spying her friend in the doorway. 'I'm so glad you were able to join us. It's so good to see you back on your feet. I've been worrying about you all week, if you weren't well enough to come tonight I was going to ask Dr. Meade if he wouldn't mind paying you a visit, but I see now that there's no need. You look simply wonderful.'

Preening slightly at the compliment, Scarlett could only smile and thank her awkwardly, not surprised in the least to have her suspicions about Dr. Meade confirmed. For all her mousy exterior, Melanie had always been something of a terrier when it came to protecting those dearest to her and Scarlett could only imagine the pressure she'd have exacted on the poor, hungry doctor in order to make him come round and check on her.

'Dinner is almost ready.' She said as she handed Scarlett a glass of wine. 'We're just waiting for Uncle Henry to arrive and then we'll go through to the dining room. Ashley has gone to meet him from his office and they shouldn't be long now. In fact, I had better go and make sure everything is ready in time for their arrival; I'd hate to keep anyone waiting.'

Disappointed that she would have to wait a little while longer before seeing Ashley, Scarlett couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as Melanie made her exit. Her friend may have irritated her frequently, but at least she could always be relied upon to include Scarlett in her conversations and without her guileless warmth the room suddenly felt far less welcoming.

Glancing furtively around at the other guests, Scarlett sighed and decided that her Aunt was probably the lesser of the four evils.

'How are you feeling tonight, Aunty?' she asked, confident that the next few minutes would be eaten up with in-depth recollections of some of Pittypat's many imaginary ailments.

Thankfully her Aunt, ever on the look out for people to vent her terrible suffering to, did not disappoint. Halfway through a particularly long and impassioned story of a fainting spell brought on by the unfortunate, and highly improbable, rumor that Rufus Bullock intended to buy up a vacant property on Peachtree Street, Scarlett felt some of the tension in her shoulders give way as she allowed herself to relax more fully into her surroundings.

Perhaps this evening wouldn't turn out so badly after all, as long as she was able to secure a seat by the Aunt at dinner and could keep her talking long enough to prevent anyone asking any unfortunate questions about Rhett, then it might even prove itself to be a surprisingly painless affair.

As if sensing her fledgling hopes and wanting to crush them before the were able to take flight, India chose that exact moment to cross the carpet and engage Scarlett in conversation.

'Will Mr. Butler not joining us this evening, Scarlett?' she asked, the hard, knowing gleam in her beady eyes instantly belaying her seemingly innocent question.

'No, I'm afraid he's away on business at the moment. He was hoping to be back in time for the dinner, but unfortunately the deal is proving a little harder to pull off than he expected.'

'That's a pity. It must be terrible for you to have to part with him so soon after your marriage. No wonder you have been feeling a little under the weather recently.'

'Indeed.' Scarlett answered shortly, turning back to face her Aunt in a bid to end their talk before it could go any further.

Unfortunately however, India had never been one to be so easily deterred. 'Forgive me for prying, but I couldn't help but wonder why you didn't choose to accompany him. If it had been my husband, I certainly would have.'

Biting her tongue to prevent herself from saying anything nasty about how India would first need to find herself a husband before concerning herself with the idea of being parted from him, Scarlett smiled icily and replied, 'As much as I would have liked to go with him, we agreed that he would get more work done if he went alone. You see the deal he is trying to secure is a rather important one and he needed to give it his full attention.'

'And yet I understand he took Wade with him, did he not? How strange. One would have thought a child would prove a far larger distraction than a wife.'

Beside her Scarlett felt Pittypat mutter nervously under her breath and tried hard to reign in her indignation so as to avoid making an unfortunate scene. She had barely walked through the door five minutes ago and could not afford to have the party descend into a riot so quickly. Already she could see the Meade's arching their heads in her direction, poorly concealing their eagerness to hear her answer.

Damn India and her bitter, Old Maidish ways! Everyone knew her and Stuart were a terrible match right from the beginning, that he was far too much of a man for her to ever have hoped to handle and yet still she insisted on acting the part of the wronged woman, punishing Scarlett time and time again for stealing a beau who would only have gone and died on her anyway.

If a woman couldn't keep her man then she had no right to him and Scarlett would not be made to apologize for being prettier and gayer than some plain, miserable old spinster who persisted in acting like she'd turned fifty on her eighteenth birthday and wouldn't know the meaning of fun if it jumped up and smacked her directly in the face.

All discretion leaving her, Scarlett's eyes flashed as cold and hard as twin emeralds as she sniped. 'Oh, but there are many ways in which a wife can distract her husband, India, not that you'd know the first thing about any of them. How could you, when you've never been fortunate enough to have a ring placed on your finger?'

Taking grim satisfaction from the flash of pain that swept across India's cold eyes, Scarlett ignored the disapproving looks she was attracting from the doctor and his wife and took a large sip from her glass, rather relishing the slight burn of the alcohol as it made its way down her throat.

For all the awkwardness of the situation, it felt good to be out again, putting her detractors firmly in heir place instead of sitting around meekly at home and worrying about what they might be saying about her. She realized now how foolish she had been to concern herself about it at all, for there was nothing that they could accuse her of that they hadn't already, no insult they could devise that she hadn't already heard a hundred times before. She had always lived her life exactly as she pleased, consequences be damned, and she wasn't about to change her ways just because Rhett had shocked her by running away.

She had survived well enough without him before their marriage and she was more than capable of doing it again if she had to. From now on if he wanted to go off on extended trips, spending most of his time away from Atlanta and the home they had built together then she would not be the one to stop him. Nor would she ever again be afraid to hold up her head around this town.

Some much needed color returning to cheeks that had grown wan and pale over the last few days, her mood brightened further when she heard the sound of male voices in the hallway. Running her free hand down the front of her dress to straighten it, she finished the last of her wine and readied herself in preparation for seeing Ashley, excited by the prospect of being close to him again after spending so long apart.

She had worn a particularly fetching green dress in honor of the occasion and did not need to stand in front of a mirror to know she was by far the prettiest woman in attendance tonight. Surely, he would not fail to think the same when he saw her and the admiration in his eyes would help carry her though the rest of the evening, shielding her from the slights of others by reassuring her that she was still held in the highest regard by the only person present who's opinion truly mattered.

Seeing his golden head appear, she could not help but take an unconscious step forward, feeling India's heated glare burning holes into her back but unwilling to let it prevent her from getting close to her brother.

Smiling widely, she caught his eye and was just about to open her mouth in greeting when her attention was torn away towards the sight of her Uncle entering the room two steps behind him. His head was turned to the left as he conversed with the man who stood beside him. A man whom no one had expected to be at the party tonight. A man whose dark eyes instantly fixed upon hers as he swept into the room and calmly took in the scene before him, the corners of his mouth curving downwards as he looked sharply back and forth between her and Ashley before barking out a short, humorless laugh.

'Hello, Scarlett.' He drawled, walking over to stand in front of her before reaching down and planting the briefest, most perfunctory of kisses upon her cheek.

Caught up in a web of anger and embarrassment, she swallowed thickly before replying.

'Hello, Rhett.'


	7. Chapter 7

_Surprise! So I made myself a promise whereby I'd write 500 words for every review the last chapter received and before I knew it this one had practically written itself. Sorry if it's a bit rushed, but I wanted to get it out while the iron was still hot. Hope you don't think my portrayal of Mrs. Meade is too ooc either, I reread the book recently and the scene where she learns that her husband has visited Belle's made me think that maybe she wasn't quite so prim and proper as I'd always assumed. The next chapter will be from Rhett's pov and should be up sometime next week. Thanks for reading._

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The silence that greeted his arrival was deafening.

If she had not be feeling quite so shaken herself, Scarlett would have been sorely tempted to laugh at the comical looks of shock being sported by most of her fellow diners. Indeed, Dr. Meade's mouth had fallen open so wide you'd almost have been forgiven for thinking that it was Frank who had just walked through the door instead of Rhett.

As it was though, Scarlett was too busy trying to think of how to best extract herself from this awful mess of a situation without losing too much face to fully be able to enjoy their bewilderment.

Beside her Rhett appeared to be almost ludicrously calm, his hands clasped lightly behind his back as he smiled down at his fellow guests, most of whom were too busy nervously avoiding his eyes to notice.

India in particular looked like she'd just been caught in the middle of trying to swallow an especially sour lemon, her thin lips pursing up unattractively as she no doubt wondered just how much of her earlier speech Rhett had actually been privy to. Scarlett almost pitied her, knowing as she did the fearful regard that most people in this town seemed to hold her husband in.

Like a wolf which has taken up residence amongst a pack of hounds, Rhett would forever be mistrusted by the rest of Atlanta, the underlying hint of savagery that many sensed lingered in his breast meaning that few were brave enough to risk getting on the wrong side of what they rightly suspected would be a formidable, vicious temper.

Seeing the way that India curved up into herself as if trying to hide from his sight, Scarlett knew that she must be regretting her earlier words greatly and wished only that Rhett could have arrived before she had had the chance to utter them. If he had, Scarlett would also have been spared the need to explain away his absence, her paltry excuse looking like even more of a bald-faced lie now that he had decided to turn up out of the blue.

'Oh Ashley, you're back,' came a small voice from the doorway and Scarlett felt herself breathe easier at the welcome break in tension. 'And Uncle Henry as well. Just in time too, dinner is almost ready to be served. In fact, if you all would be so good as to make your way to the dining...Why, Captain Butler! Forgive me, I did not see you there. How good of you to join us.'

'Why thank you Mrs. Wilkes, it's a honor to be invited into your fine home. I'm afraid it isn't much of a gift, but I did bring a bottle of wine for the table. I left it out in the hallway. Shall I go and retrieve it while everyone takes their seats?'

'Oh Captain Butler, you are kind. You really needn't have gone to all that trouble.'

'It was no trouble, I assure you.' He said, flashing her one of his most winning smiles.

Scarlett couldn't help the scowl that crept across her forehead at the sight of him trying to charm Melly so obviously, especially when he had only seen fit to look in her direction once since making his grand entrance.

She eyed Melanie with disdain as her friend, unused to receiving such attention from any man, let alone one as darkly charismatic as Rhett, blushed and stammered under his prolonged scrutiny. _Silly fool_ _,_ she thought contemptuously, _doesn't she know better than to let a man know you are affected by his flirtations?_ Certainly Scarlett herself had always taken pains to appear unmoved by Rhett's charm, even if a part of her had sorely missed being the center of his attention over these last few weeks.

It did not look as if she was going to be on the receiving end of it tonight again either though, Rhett leaving her side without so much as a backwards glance as he went out to collect the bottle he'd brought along with him.

Brushing off his neglect with a careless shrug of her shoulders, Scarlett followed the others into the dining room. Keeping to her earlier plan of securing a seat next to Pittypat, Scarlett stuck close to her Aunt as they approached the table, watching out of the corner of her eye as Melanie engaged Dilcey in a quiet discussion about where would be best to lay the extra place setting now that Rhett had chosen to grace them all with his esteemed presence.

For a moment, Scarlett considered asking them to seat him as far away from her as was possible given the room's pokey dimensions. While knowing full well that she would never actually dare to say such a thing out loud, the idea was nevertheless one that amused her greatly. She could just imagine the appalled looks and nonplussed expressions she would doubtless receive from her husband and fellow diners if she were to act so scandalously.

As her Aunt took her seat next to Mrs. Meade, Scarlett sat down quickly on her other side, hoping that her Uncle might decide to take the vacant spot to her left but resigning herself to the fact that it would most likely be occupied by Rhett.

Sure enough, Henry passed her by in favor of sitting on the other side of the table between Dr. Meade and Ashley, Melanie having added an extra place at the head for herself to sit in.

If the last-minute alteration to the seating plan had flustered her then Melanie took pains to disguise it, acting the part of the gracious hostess in a way that Scarlett herself doubted she would ever be able to pull off even half so perfectly.

Turning to her best friend now as the first course was brought out and carefully set down in front of them, Melanie inquired sweetly, 'Are you sure you are quite well, dear? I did so hate to think about you being cooped up all alone in that big house of yours. I was up half of last night worrying about you.'

Gritting her teeth against the onslaught of Melanie's good will, Scarlett smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. 'I'm fine Melly, really I am. Please don't trouble yourself by thinking about it any longer.'

'How is Beau doing?' she asked, finding herself in the strange and wholly novel position of wanting to divert the group's attentions away from, rather than towards, her own person for a change.

She may well have been successful in her bid too if she hadn't felt a large hand descending upon her shoulder at just that very moment.

'You've been unwell?'

Glancing up, she caught sight of what looked suspiciously like genuine concern in Rhett's dark eyes and was surprised at how much the revelation angered her. What right did he have to play the role of the doting husband now when, for all he knew, she could have been at death's door this past week? In all the time that he had been away she had heard nothing from him, not one single, solitary word to explain his absence or to ask after her health. It was the least any gentleman could have done and yet he had failed to even extend this slim courtesy towards her.

Only with supreme effort did she manage to swallow down the bitter retort she longed to throw at him, her eyes cold as she assured him tepidly, 'It was nothing. I felt a little out of sorts for a day or two last week, but I'm quite recovered now.'

Reading the iciness in her expression for what it was, Rhett's concern soon evaporated and his face was carefully bland as he took his seat beside her. 'Still,' he drawled laconically, 'you should have at telegraphed me if you were suffering some discomfort. I would have come straight home if only I had known.'

The swift, taunting glance he leveled in her direction only added fuel to an already scorching fire and Scarlett had to grip the edges of her seat with both hands to prevent herself from rising up and forcibly wiping the smug smile from off of his stupid face with the back of her hand.

 _Why, you rotten, lying scallwag_!, she cursed savagely under her breath. How dare he come here and try to twist the situation to his advantage? Making it seem as if she had been lacking in her wifely duty in some way when in actual fact he had been the one to up and leave her without so much as a word. Good god, how she would relish sounding him out if only they were alone! For certainly there was no man in the whole of existence who deserved to be taken down a peg or two half as much as her self-righteous rogue of a husband.

As if sensing the discord between the pair, Melanie was swift to try and change the subject. 'Did you enjoy your time away, Captain Butler?'

Turning his smirking face from Scarlett, Rhett softened his features before answering smoothly. 'Why indeed I did, Miss Melly. New Orleans is always charming at this time of year and Wade found himself a firm new friend -not that anyone could ever come close to matching your Beau in his eyes, of course.'

The stab of pain that rushed through her at the the thought of Rhett having visited New Orleans without her, and so soon after they had enjoyed their honeymoon there together, was quickly extinguished when she caught sight of the malicious gleam that his words had lit up in India's eyes.

'Did you conduct any business while you were there?' She asked knowingly from her seat in the corner.

Her heart jumping into her mouth, Scarlett was fully prepared to throw all her good manners to the wind and rudely interrupt the conversation in other to save her blushes, when Rhett beat her to it.

'Business?' he asked, frowning. 'No, it wasn't that kind of a trip.'

Panic engulfing her at the thought of seeing her flimsy lies tumbling around her one after another, Scarlett did the only thing she could think of to salvage the situation, reaching across to dig her nails sharply into the tender flesh of Rhett's inner thigh.

Flinching away from the pain, he jerked his head in her direction, a silent reprimand clearly written across every line of his swarthy features. Upon seeing the almost sickly pallor of her own complexion though, something like understanding flashed briefly across his eyes and, clearing his throat to cover up the misstep, he continued calmly. 'I confess I did go with the intention of securing a rather large deal, but alas I was outbid at the last minute by an old rival of mine from the blockading days. I swear to meet the man you would think him the meekest of all of God's good creatures but, in truth, he's a devil in a dandy's clothing if ever I did see one.'

Scarlett felt her entire body sag into her chair with relief and praised the Lord that, for all his many flaws, Rhett could at least be counted on to always get them out of a tight spot.

She was considering whether or not to throw a triumphant smirk in India's direction just for the pleasure of seeing her bested when Dr. Meade's next words broke though her gloating and brought her back down to earth with a sizable bump.

'That's hardly a surprise. If you ask me, every last blockader is nothing more than a thieving charlatan. Swanning around pretending to help the Glorious Cause when really they were just lining their own pockets with the fruits of its demise.'

 _Perfect,_ thought Scarlett wryly, _all we need now is for him to start droning on about that damn war again. Haven't we all suffered enough already?_

'Can you blame a man?' Rhett asked innocently. 'After all it's usually during times of destruction that you find the ripest pickings have a tendency to fall directly into your lap.'

Scarlett watched as Dr. Meade's Adam's apple bobbed angrily up and down in his scrawny throat like a cat struggling to escape from a cloth sack and wondered earnestly if she wouldn't have been better off staying at home with a book after all. It was beginning to look like she and Rhett were doomed to cause a scene in some way or other tonight and she suddenly felt far too drained to be able to cope with all the ill will they were generating.

Scanning tired eyes around the table as Dr. Meade began his long-winded retort to Rhett's insolent comment, her gaze fell upon Ashley as he sat awkwardly in his seat, his lips drawn together thinly in a way that reminded her unpleasantly of his sister's earlier expression.

She wondered why he didn't say something to stop their argument. It was his roof they were all currently sitting under after all and so naturally it fell to him as the man of the house to ensure that the dinner ran as smoothly as possible.

Probably he was simply too good to ever want to risk causing offence to either party, but still she could not help but think that it was surely doing even more harm to let such behavior carry on unchecked?

Caught up in thoughts which confused and unsettled her greatly, Scarlett did not realize she had been staring so intently at Ashley until she felt a hand encircle hers from where it still lay idly between Rhett's thighs.

Looking up, she found Rhett glaring at her fiercely and her cheeks instantly colored as if burnt by the heat of his look. She tried to extract her hand from his suddenly crushing grasp, but he held on almost cruelly, squashing her knuckles up against each other as he tightened his grip almost to the point of pain.

Eyes watering, she bent her head back down towards her still full plate and hastily busied herself with eating her supper as well as she was able with only one free hand to help her.

Around her the conversation had thankfully moved on to much safer ground, the men speaking of the latest political reforms while Mrs. Meade regaled Melly and Pittypat with a tale of an irate customer who had gone into Mrs. Merriweather's bakery to complain about having found a tooth in one of her famous pies.

'Surely not!' cried Melanie in alarm while, to Scarlett's left, Aunt Pittypat looked like the shocking news may well trigger yet another fainting spell. 'Whatever did she do?'

'You know old Dolly, she's as tough as they come and it would take someone far braver than myself to even attempt to go up against her. According to Mrs. Elsing, who heard it from Maybelle, who got it from Grandpa Merriweather who was himself a witness to the whole sorry affair, she refused to give the poor man a refund, declaring that it must have been one of his own teeth that had fallen into the pie while he was eating it and that he was probably just too dim-witted to have noticed it was missing.'

Struggling to hide her grin, Scarlett considered how nice it was to hear someone other than herself speak about old battleaxe Merriweather in less than glowing terms. Sometimes she forgot that Mrs. Meade wasn't nearly so much of a pompous fuddy-duddy as her husband and that, were it not for their difference in ages, she might even have been friends with the woman.

As if overhearing her thoughts, Mrs. Meade turned her attention towards Scarlett and said conspiratorially, 'Indeed, I don't think Dolly's been in so much of a state since the day that Scarlett here tore into her for daring to suggest that Captain Butler hadn't served in the army.'

Unused to finding herself on the receiving end of compliments from a woman other than Melly, Scarlett first bristled at the comment, past experience telling her that Mrs. Meade much be intending to criticize her. Something about the small, twinkling glance the older lady flashed her though soothed Scarlett's ruffled feather and caused her to smile tentatively back at her.

To Scarlett's left, Rhett had suddenly gone very quiet, cutting off halfway through an impassioned monologue on the benefits of trying to look amenable to the new Republican rule as he tried to process what had just been said.

Beneath the table, the hand which had been grasping hers hard enough to leave bruises eased up, his strong fingers rubbing lightly over where they had been biting into her skin mere moments before.

Sensing that most of the table was waiting for her to respond, she swallowed thickly and smiled. 'Her face did go a rather worrying color when I told her she was wrong.'

Mrs. Meade laughed the laugh of a woman overjoyed to finally be able to get one up on an old adversary. 'Of that I have no doubt, although I'm sure you telling her that you'd still have wanted to marry Captain Butler even if he'd fought on the Yankee's side had something to do with it too!'

Dimly, Scarlett was conscious of the other diner's reactions to Mrs. Meade's statement. Of Melanie and Uncle Henry's good-natured laughter, Ashley and India's matching grim, disapproving expressions and Pittypat's nervous intake of breathe.

Yet, for all her awareness, none of them really touched her.

She was too caught up in studying the surprised, searching look that Rhett was directing at her from out of the corner of his eye.

His face was still turned towards the table, preventing her from being able to fully grasp the meaning of his expression, and yet there was something there in the lines of his cheeks and the upturned corners of his mouth that looked curiously like joy, perhaps even hope.

There was also something undeniably gentle about how he now held her hand, his grip tight in a way that suggested that he could not bring himself to let go and that, if not for the confines of the current surroundings, he would have taken great pleasure in drawing her much closer still.

She was confused by the depth of his response to such a seemingly minor revelation. In truth, she had forgotten all about her encounter with Mrs. Merriweather and would most likely never have thought to share it with him if Mrs. Meade hadn't decided to broach the subject now.

His reaction was particularly offsetting in light of how coldly he had been acting towards her all evening, only seeming to acknowledge her presence at all when he either wanted to taunt or chastise her for some perceived failing or another.

As the servants stepped forward to take away their empty plates however, he surprised her again by twisting her hand around so that it now lay palm up on top of his leg.

Circling her slim wrist with one hand, he took his other index finger and slowly began to trace a pattern upon her open palm.

It took her a few moments to realize that this wasn't just an idle gesture, but that he was actually trying to write something on her skin. A secret message passed from him to her away from the prying eyes and gossiping tongues of their fellow guests.

Half-shutting her eyes, she concentrated hard on trying to decipher his meaning, a tremor running through her as she finally understood what it was he was trying to say:

 _THANK YOU_


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for the delay, I thought this chapter would be one of the easier ones, but it ended up giving me more grief than all the others combined. If it seems a little jarring in places, I apologize, but it was either post it now or chuck my laptop out the window and be done with it. Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter, especially the guests- I really wish there was a way for me to reply to you._

 _Hope you enjoy!_

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'Scarlett.'

'Scarlett, look at me.'

She did not turn her head and he would not be reduced to begging. Not this early in proceedings.

The corners of his lips twitched up unwillingly as he took her in, hunched up on the other side of the carriage seat, careful to angle herself as far away from him as was possible given the confines of their surroundings.

A person could live for a thousand years and not endure even a fraction of the suffering she had been made to wade through in her short life, and yet, despite such hardship, she still managed to be the most endearingly immature woman he had ever met.

'Scarlett.' He tried once more, only to be similarly rebuffed.

The only indication that she had heard him at all came from eyes which burnt a shade hotter each time he said her name.

Despite their detente at the dining table, she was still angry with him, and for once, he was unsure how to handle the situation for the best. All evening, he had been secure in the knowledge that the part of the wronged, vengeful spouse would rightfully fall to him. After all, he had returned from his trip away not only to find his wife absent, but to hear that she was intending on spending her night firmly ensconced in house and bosom of one Ashley Wilkes, having no doubt spent the majority of the day dreaming up plans of secret rendezvous and words whispered right under the nose of the man's poor, unsuspecting saint of a wife.

His suspicions had been confirmed when, half way through the first course, her food still laying untouched and forgotten on her plate, she had lifted her eyes and engaged her paramour with the exactly the kind of intense, curious gaze that he had once been foolish enough to hope she would only wish to bestow upon him.

He had been furious in that moment. A fury that had burnt white hot only to quickly smolder down into shame. Shame that his love for her could so quickly turn to violence and, that if he were to reach across now and pick up her hand from where it lay fisted in her lap, he would find it darkened by bruises of his own making.

He had not meant to hurt her. Not really. From the moment they had met, he had sought only to protect her from harm, not to inflict it upon her.

Things that had once seemed so clear to him had begun to muddy in recent months however, the toll of living with her everyday and sleeping beside her every night while knowing deep inside that she wished he were someone else had hardened him in ways he had not predicted and was clueless as to how to go about preventing.

He knew only too well the sort of person a life of disappointments and unfulfilled dreams could turn him into and found himself checking his face in the mirror more frequently these days, fearing that soon the reflection would begin to resemble that of another man altogether.

A man who had cast a stern, disapproving shadow over his childhood and from whom he had been running for most of his adult life. It sickened him to think that any semblance of his father still lingered within his breast and that, worse still, he was only likely to grow more like him each time he stared into a pair of emerald eyes and found only apathy looking back.

His wife was definitely feeling far from apathetic towards him at the moment though, her thick brows slanting down over eyes as stormy as any sea he'd ever sailed. He felt oddly unsettled by her show of rage, as if she had stolen the role that should rightfully have been his, leaving him floundering around on the stage without an inkling of what his next line or move should be.

Her open show of fury had ripped up the script they'd been rigidly sticking to since their wedding day. A script which stated that she should always conceal her true feelings from him and that he should reply to her continued indifference with either a thinly veiled barb or a florid literary analogy that both of them knew she'd never be able to unpick.

Usually, they would go round in circles like this for days until he grew frustrated enough at her silence to give in and attempt to kiss her back into a good mood. Then they'd pick up from where they'd left off with nothing ventured and certainly nothing gained.

Tonight, though, he had finally grown weary of such games, the events of the evening having made him realize that his traditional tactics would never win him the prize he so desperately sought.

A small voice from the dark recesses of his mind whispered that he owed her something too. Owed her for every time he had pushed her away when he ought to have pulled her closer, for all the things he'd said to rile rather than reassure her and for all the many years that he had loved her and lied about it.

For once he wanted to talk to her honestly, as a man to a woman, not an opponent to an adversary, to show something of himself and uncover a part of her in the process.

Most of all though, he just wanted to hear something true.

'Why did you do it?' he asked softly, for once allowing uncertainly to creep into a voice he usually took pains to keep level and strong.

Something about his tone must have intrigued Scarlett, for she turned to look at him for the first time since they had left the Wilkes'. 'Do what?'

'Defend me.'

Her brow puckering in annoyance, she answered sharply. 'I don't know.'

'You must.'

'Well, I don't.'

'Please, Scarlett. I need to know.'

Seeing her eye him warily, Rhett clenched his jaw as he was confronted with the unhappy truth that she didn't trust him enough to believe in even this small show of weakness.

He had been acting for so long that she no more recognized his true self than she would a stranger she had glimpsed in the distance on precious few occasions. A stranger who always made a hasty retreat every time she tried to step closer in order to get a better look.

Holding his nerve, he met her uncertain gaze with an open one of his own and was rewarded when words began to tumble from her lips like water spilling forth from a long-blocked dam. 'I don't know, Rhett. She was just being so hateful, telling me that I couldn't marry you. She kept acting all high and mighty, as if I was some child unable to make up my own mind. I didn't like it, so I told her-'

'You told her you'd have married me even if I'd served in the Yankee army.' He said, his smile widening as he imagined his hellcat of a wife, red-faced and furious, spitting out such scandalous words for all to hear.

Scarlett blushed. 'Well, yes, perhaps I shouldn't have said _that,_ but she just got me so angry! Oh, Rhett, how would you have liked it if someone had tried to tell you that you couldn't marry me?'

'I cannot rightly say, my pet. Although, I think it is safe to assume that I would not have taken it well.'

'Exactly! It's no body's business but ours and they should all learn to keep their noses out.'

Her spirited words softened something in his chest and he wished only that they could have applied to her precious Ashley too.

'Besides, it wasn't true.' She said quietly, her lower lip trembling like that of a frustrated toddler.

'What wasn't?'

'What she said about you not being in the army. God knows I didn't like you going, but you did, and you could have died, and it wasn't right for her to make you out to be some kind of mealy-mouthed coward.'

He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly without having spoken. His throat felt uncomfortably thick at the thought that she had defended him, not only because she did not like being told what to do, but because she had not like hearing him bad mouthed.

 _Touched._

It was such a quaint, slight word. Hardly the sort of thing that was wont to leave a mouth as abrasive and direct as his own, and yet, that's exactly how he felt in the wake of her unexpected display of loyalty.

Touched that she had cared enough to do something that his mother, siblings and rag tag assortment of friends and acquaintances had never once thought to: shield him from the unjust hatred of another.

Reaching out for her hand, he cupped it tenderly in his larger one and began to softly stroke over her palm with the fleshy pads of his fingertips.

His lover-like gesture, a perfect echo of his silent message at the dining table, caught her off guard and he bit back a smile as he heard her breathe catch in her throat.

Coughing to cover her embarrassment, Scarlett's voice was more than a little unsteady as she launched quickly into another rant about the unbelievable gall of Mrs. Merriweather.

He smiled in response even as he felt his desire rising.

There had always been something undeniably stimulating about watching such hot, leaping fury emanate from a frame as small and slight as hers. It spoke of a blistering passion that ran just beneath the skin. A passion that Rhett so longed to be able to tease to the surface.

Her fire spoke to some place deep inside his gut, the same spot which always whispered to him to ride a little faster, drink a little longer, make the stakes a little higher. It called out to the reckless heart of him and urged him to step closer, to incite her with another barb, to push her over the edge and pray hard that, by some lucky miracle, she'd end up falling straight into his waiting arms.

Spurred on by such thoughts, Rhett felt that the last few minutes of their journey home were sent only to test his patience to its breaking point. When the carriage finally pulled to a stop, he wasted no time in jumping down and tipping the driver before hurrying to follow Scarlett up the front path.

It had been too long since he had last been this close to her. Since their wedding, he had not spent a single night away from her side and he was more than ready to reclaim his rightful place in both their home and bed.

Barely able to restrain himself, he waited only long enough for her to open the door and step into the darkened, abandoned hallway before reaching out and swinging her bodily into his chest. Not wanting to give her a chance to remember her earlier ire and pull away, he wasted no time in bringing his lips down to meet hers, kissing her with an intensity and a completeness that drove all other thoughts from both of their minds.

Her mouth was soft against his, so soft, in fact, that it made a mockery of all the times he had dreamed about her during their days apart. He knew now that nothing could ever provide a suitable substitute for the real thing and wondered earnestly if he'd ever have the willpower to leave her side again.

She surprised him by returning his kisses with more than a little fervor of her own and, a few moments later, she even went so far as to part her lips without any prior prompting on his behalf, deepening the kiss and causing Rhett to lose the very last remnants of his control.

Bending down, he swept her up into his arms and carried her swiftly up the stairs, his breath catching as he felt her bury her small hands in his hair and push herself up harder into his embrace.

God, how he wanted her. So much, in fact, that the only thing that managed to stop him from sprinting down the corridor to their room was the unwelcome thought of what the servants would say if they caught him acting so foolishly.

Kicking open the door, he strode over to the bed and all but threw her down upon it, a startled yelp leaving her swollen lips as she bounced heavily against the mattress.

He made quick work of her clothes, his hands a blur of movement as he unpicked, unlaced and unbuttoned length after never-ending length of fabric until, at long last, she knelt on the bed before him with only her thin chemise to shield her from his heated gaze.

Turning his attention to his own clothes, he undressed swiftly, forgoing his usual meticulous folding in favor of simply letting his clothes fall where they may. Stripping down to his undergarments, he bent forward and pulled her into another hard kiss before crawling up onto the bed and eagerly covering her body with his own.

Stretched out on the mattress, he wasted no time in recapturing her lips, spending a few glorious minutes dedicating himself to the task of relearning her every taste and reaction. He had memorized many tricks in the months since their marriage, noting exactly how and with what pressure she needed to be touched in order to come apart under his lips and tongue, and he employed them all now, one after another, until she melted into a loose, languid bundle of nerves and need beneath him.

Trailing his hands down from her hips, he cupped the backs of her knees and pulled them up and apart so that his legs could slip into the warm, dark space between hers.

The movement caused the top of his thigh to press against her most intimate spot and, before he could bring himself to retract it, she shocked him by letting out a moan unlike any he had ever heard her make before. Pulling back to stare at her with cautious, hopeful eyes, he took in her expression of perplexed amazement and decided to chance his luck.

Gently, he rolled his thigh so that it rubbed across the length of her, his pulse racing when she rewarded his efforts by digging her nails into the small of his back and arching up off the bed. The action brought her breasts into contact with his naked chest and only the sound of her voice, timid and raw, stopped him from losing all composure and taking her that very instant.

'Rhett?' she gasped, her pupils blown wide in a way that made her look impossibly young and vulnerable.

'Shh.' He hushed her softly, his own fervor receding to the periphery as he took in her lost expression.

He had tried to touch her here so many times in the past, using his hands and fingers and -even on one disastrously memorable occasion- his mouth, in an increasingly futile attempt to bring her pleasure.

Each time though, she had clammed up quicker than a nun in a whore house and eventually he had given up trying for fear that his actions were only succeeding in adding to her already unhealthy dislike of marital relations.

For the first time though, he wondered if perhaps the problem had not been the touches themselves, but rather the fact that the kinds of caresses he'd tried to bestow upon her had simply been too intimate in nature for her to accept without feeling uncomfortable. Maybe something as simple and impersonal as the slow grind of his thigh against her mound was easier for her to handle. Perhaps this was the way to finally begin dismantling the demons built up over a lifetime of forced sexual oppression.

Emboldened by the thought, he rose up slightly onto his elbows, placing tender, encouraging kisses along the lines of her face and jaw as he cradled the back of her head in his palms and moved with a renewed sense of purpose above her.

He watched in fascination as her eyes clouded over with desire, small beads of sweat beginning to form across her forehead as her cheeks flushed an alluring shade of red between his hands.

He took pains to keep his pace slow and careful, straining his muscles to stop himself from increasing the pace before she was ready. He would not rush her this time, would not give in to the heat of his own lust and, in doing so, prevent hers from catching fire.

'Rhett...please...I don't...' she murmured helplessly, her eyes struggling to focus on his face as her body began to rock tentatively beneath his.

'That's it.' He encouraged, taking heart as her shaky movements began to even out into something stronger and more defined. He had always known she had this side to her, that her body was made to give and receive pleasure. Before now, her stubborn mind had kept her from feeling it, but it looked as though he was finally beginning to break down her walls. 'It's yours, honey. All yours. Take it.'

She moaned softly in response, her movements growing determined and almost violent in nature as she rocked herself over him time and time again, her breathe quickening into shallow, panting gasps as she undulated between him and the sheets.

Captivated by the primal beauty of her actions, he felt himself harden further, the thin material of his undergarments providing precious little of the friction he was in such desperate need of. Rotating his palms so that he could fist the pillows and stop himself from reaching down and taking himself in hand, Rhett watched with bated breathe as Scarlett's rocking descended into short, jerk-like spasms.

Eyes wide, he looked on in awe as she let out a deep, unearthly groan, her entire body seizing up as she clawed her nails into his back hard enough to draw blood.

She held onto him like this for several seconds, clutching him tightly to her as if he were the only solid thing in a world reduced suddenly to pure, liquid light. He cradled her against him reverently and watched as the peak slowly ebbed away and she collapsed heavily down on the duvet like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Exhausted, she lay there with her eyes tightly shut, granting him a much-needed moment to marvel at all that had just occurred between them.

It had all happened so suddenly that were it not for the sting of pain in his lower back and her elevated breathing in his ear, he would have been sorely tempted to believe that it had all been a dream.

As if to help convince himself that she was indeed real, he reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm, transfixed by the blistering heat that radiated out from her flushed, sweat-soaked skin.

Blinking, she opened her eyes, staring up at him in bleary confusion before something like clarity swept across her dazed expression and she paled beneath his palm.

He knew what she was going to do almost before she did, and yet still he was powerless to stop it.

'Scarlett, don't.' He entreated, fighting to keep hold of her as she struggled wildly to push him off and flee from the bed.

He could feel the mortification rolling off of her in waves and, silently, he vowed to throttle every last person responsible for making her this monstrously ashamed of her own body.

Caging her between his chest and the bed, he clamped his arms around her and simply held on, flinching as she slapped and clawed at his upper body, but refusing to let her move so much as an inch away from him. Gradually, her energy began to wane as her anger simmered down into shaking, humiliated sobs.

'Hush, honey. Please, don't cry. There is nothing to be sorry for.' He soothed, running his hands up and down her arms in a bid to comfort her. 'I know you won't believe me, but what just happened was perfectly natural. You have nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should be proud of yourself. Not many women are brave enough to do what you just have. Never let anyone make you feel guilty for having enjoyed marital relations, Scarlett. Hell, its the least you deserve for having to put up with such a dishonorable reprobate of a husband.'

Through her tears, he thought he made out a small, reluctant huff of laughter and, taking a chance, he rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him so that she ended up laying flat out across his chest.

Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back in small, reassuring circles, wishing only that he could do more to put her overwrought mind at ease.

Casting around for something to distract her, he began to tell her about his time away in New Orleans, about how the city had seemed unbearably dull without her sparkling presence to enliven it and how Wade had missed her sorely every day that they were away.

Calmed by the deep, lazy drawl of his voice in the darkness, Scarlett gradually ceased crying, the tension seeping out of her tired body as she buried her face in the comforting warmth of his neck and yawned loud enough for Rhett to grow truly concerned about the fate of his eardrum.

'You go to sleep, my pet.' He coaxed gently, pulling her closer and interlacing their hands on top of his chest. 'Tomorrow, I'll let you unwrap your presents and then we shall see how well I carried your image around with me while I was away.'

'You bought me back a present?' she asked, her voice sounding so much like that of a sleepy, curious child that it made his heart thump painfully in his chest.

'I did indeed, my dear. More than one, in fact.'

'How many?'

'You'll have to wait and see.'

He smiled as, against his neck, he felt her lips turn up into a pout. He waited patiently for her to start demanding that he tell her the exact number right this instant, only to be surprised by her continued silence.

A moment later, however, her behavior was explained when the sound of a heavy sigh and a light, breathy snore reached his ear.

Grinning into the darkness, he reached over to drag her long, silken hair across the length of his throat before closing his eyes and following her into oblivion.


	9. Chapter 9

_Apologies for the awfully long gap between chapters, a family health issue made it impossible for me to update before now. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and to those who wrote asking that I continue, it was your kind words and enthusiasm for this story that prevented me from giving up on it during the harder moments. The issue is still ongoing so updates might be a little sporadic for a time, but rest assured I won't leave this unfinished. Hope you enjoy :)_

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The bed was warm when Scarlett awoke the following morning, her fingers unconsciously seeking out someone who they did not find.

A feeling of unease stole across her slumbering mind as her hands clutched at empty sheets, pulling her unwillingly from dreams of dark, delicious sensations that rolled down her body like currents towards the shore.

Sitting up, she yawned widely and stretched her arms out to her sides, back arching up as she caught sight of something curious from the corner of her eye. Frowning as she looked down at the crumpled pillow next to her own, she rolled over onto her stomach to inspect it further, smiling slightly when the familiar scent of tobacco and horses rose up to greet her.

 _Rhett,_ she thought, her eyes sparkling smugly at the realisation that he was back. Why, he had barely been able to stay away a week! How humbled he must be by his need for her and, in his weakened state, how easy it would be to extract the long-overdue apology that she yearned to prise from his unwilling lips.

The thought of finally besting him, of emerging victorious from a fight when, in the past, there had only ever been one victor when the two of them came to blows made her eyes gleam almost viciously. He had thought himself so superior for so long that to prove him otherwise would surely be one of the sweetest feelings that she had ever known.

Smirking to herself, Scarlett flipped over onto her back, flinching in surprise when a dull, aching discomfort flared up from between her legs.

Eyes widening in mortification, the events of the previous night came rushing back to her in one fierce, terrible swoop, the memories stacking up against each other, one after another, until she felt herself crippling under their immense weight.

How could she have let it happen? Granted, she had drunk a little more wine at Melly's than was strictly appropriate, the shock of her husband's return having made her hand reach towards the bottle on a few too many occasions. Even so, she had been far from drunk when they'd made their departure and would have been completely capable of resisting Rhett's advances if only she'd felt the urge to.

She had felt such an urge, she tried to convince herself now, surely she must have. She was far too much of a lady to ever willingly endure the treatment he had subjected her to.

But even as she tried to tell herself as much, she could not help but think back to the slide of his thigh and the way his movements had managed to be gratifyingly rough and achingly gentle at the same time.

Scarlett blushed crimson as she recalled having moved so shamelessly under him, the madness that had seized hold of her having swept all thoughts of self-preservation aside and pushed her to drive ever harder off the mattress and into his waiting embrace.

Worse still was the thought that Rhett himself had been a mere observer to the act, simply laying above her, stoic and unmoving, as she had worked herself up to such unimagined heights beneath him. He had not been possessed by the same feelings that had so assaulted her senses, had not shared in her insanity and joined in with her actions.

He had nothing to be ashamed of this morning, while she, in turn, regretted everything.

In the past, even though it had been clear that Rhett enjoyed marital relations more than she herself did, never had Scarlett seen him come apart as she had last night. Always, he had held himself steady and somewhat aloof above her, moving with a sense of rhythm and detachment that unnerved her and careful never to utter anything more than a few heavy breaths or small, almost silent groans even at the very height of his pleasure.

When she thought about how she had acted in comparison, the way she had writhed against him and the mortifying sounds that had poured forth from her lips unchecked, she could die of embarrassment. Cad that he was, Rhett was bound to make some horrible, coarse reference to her wanton behaviour and, once he did, she wasn't sure how she was ever supposed to look him in the eye again.

And to think that only moments ago she had been foolish enough to think she had finally gained an advantage over him! After how she had acted last night she would never be able to claim the higher ground again for her behaviour had provided him with all the ammunition he would ever need to pull her right back down into the dirt.

Nausea overcoming her, Scarlett went to spring out of bed when the sound of her door handle opening brought her up short.

Heart leaping to her throat, she pulled the covers up around her head and pretended to be asleep, the thought of having to face her gloating husband too much for her at the present moment.

The soft sound of feet upon carpet filled her ears and, a short while later, she felt a small, cool hand tap against her exposed cheek.

'Mother?'

Daring to peek out through half-closed lashes, the tension seeped from Scarlett's body as she took in the sight of her son.

Pushing back the covers, she sat up and extended a hand to pat his head.

'Wade, darling.' She purred, her child's absence these past days having made her far happier to see him than she usually would have been. 'You're back.'

'Yes, mother.' He said shyly, his hands clutching at his collar as he basked in her unexpected attention.

'Did you enjoy your trip?'

'Yes, thank you. The streets were big and there were lots of boats and I made a friend.'

'Did you, dear?'

Wade nodded excitedly. 'Yes, his name is James and he's seven years and forty two weeks old and he's tall and ever so good at...'

The sound of her son's guileless babbling faded to the background as a shadow fell across the bedroom doorway, blocking out most of the light from the upstairs landing.

Swallowing thickly, Scarlett risked a glance across the room only to having her fears confirmed when her eyes met the shining, black ones of her husband. He stood squarely on the threshold, one arm cradling a tired-looking Ella to his chest and the other laden down with boxes of all shapes and sizes, stacked one on top of the other so that they reached from his waist almost all the way up to his chin.

A small thrill ran through Scarlett at the sight. In all the unpleasantness of recalling last night, she had forgotten that he had mentioned something about presents and now felt a familiar, sweet anticipation fizzle up in her stomach as she took them in.

'Good morning, my pet.' He drawled lazily as he gazed down upon her.

'Good morning, Rhett.' She replied, pleased to note that her voice hid her discomfort well.

Striding across the room, he deposited Ella carefully down on the bed beside Scarlett before placing the boxes onto the mattress near her feet.

'Wade, why don't you come on over here and help me sort these out. After all, you did help to choose them so it's only fair that you get your fair share of the credit, or blame as well the case may be.'

Proudly, Wade walked over to his step-father and held out his arms for the first box. It was tall and narrow in shape and Scarlett could not wait to find out what lay inside, feeling more than a little put out when Rhett directed, 'Give that one to your sister.'

Watching as Wade rounded the bed to pass the present to an over-eager Ella, Scarlett could barely stop herself from pouting, a knowing grin from Rhett indicating that her efforts had not been entirely successful.

With fumbling movements, Ella managed to remove the lid from the box, squealing jubilantly when she discovered a new doll inside, its hair colouring a perfect replica of her own.

'Do you like it?' Rhett asked.

Ella nodded her head so exuberantly it made Scarlett dizzy just to see it.

'What do you say?' She prompted her daughter expectantly.

'Thank you.' Ella said dutifully, scrambling over to plant sloppy kisses on both Wade and Rhett's cheeks.

'You're very welcome.' Rhett smiled, reaching out a hand to ruffle Ella's curls.

'That one next Wade.' He said, indicating the largest box on the bed with a tilt of his head. Scarlett eyed it almost hungrily, hoping desperately that it was meant for her as her fingers were already itching to open it. 'It's your mother's.'

Biting her lip to supress a squeal uncannily like her daughter's, Scarlett had to restrain herself from snatching the gift out of Wade's hands as he passed it to her.

Pulling it apart quickly, her eyes flashed as they took in the abundance of emerald green silk spilling out before her. Lifting it from the box, she felt it seep over her fingers, sliding down her arms like the softest, most seductive of caresses.

'It's beautiful.' She breathed, clutching the dress protectively to her chest when Ella reached out a hand to grab it.

'You like it?'

'I adore it.' She said, turning it this way and that so that she might see it from every angle.

'Scarlett.'

'Hmm?' She enquired, tearing her eyes reluctantly away from the darling thing to meet Rhett's teasing stare.

'What do you say?' He asked, his voice a perfect imitation of the one she'd used on Ella only minutes earlier. Either side of her, the sound of childish laughter broke out, Wade and Ella clearly tickled to see their mother being made to follow the rules she often so strictly imposed upon them.

'Thank you.' She muttered quietly and with poor grace, her eyes fixed on the duvet.

'Don't you think Wade and I deserve a kiss too? Ella was certainly kind enough to give us one.'

Scowling at her husband's antics, Scarlett was half-tempted to throw the dress back in his smug face, before the sheen of the material caught her eye and crumbled her resolve. Rhett smirked as if she had spoken her thoughts out loud and Scarlett's frowned deepened in response.

Reaching over, she pulled Wade to her and placed a kiss on his forehead. 'Thank you, dear. It's a lovely present.'

'You're welcome.' Her son preened.

She lay there a moment before realising that Rhett had no intention of moving over and bending down so she could kiss him too and so, testily, she rose up onto her knees and scooted down to where he stood near the bottom of the bed.

'Thank you, darling.' She said in a bitingly sarcastic tone, her eyes shooting daggers as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

As her lips touched against his newly-shaved skin however, Rhett reached up and laid his hand upon the back of her neck, anchoring her in place and turning his head so that their mouths came into contact.

He kissed her sweetly before pulling back a quarter of an inch and whispering, 'You're welcome', against her lips, the heat of his breath making her head swim.

Pressing a hand to his chest to steady herself, Scarlett's eyes met Rhett's and a moment of recognition passed between the two, the memories of the previous night so vivid that they seemed to sparkle in the reflections of the other's gaze.

Embarrassed, Scarlett ducked her head and escaped his hold, retreating back to the safety of the head of the bed while she still had enough sense to.

For some time after, her mind grew a little foggy and she was only dimly aware of the procession of other presents being handed out and unwrapped before her. There were sweets and toys for Ella, a new collar and bowl for her kitten, and a brooch, ruby earrings and a dainty new parasol for Scarlett along with two other dresses and various matching hats.

All in all it was an impressive set of gifts and usually Scarlett's mercurial heart would have burst with joy at seeing such wonders laid out in front of her, but for some reason she simply could not concentrate on anything other than the look Rhett had last given her.

It made her tingle in a way that could have been excitement or nervousness or perhaps a thrilling new combination of the two. Her mind was too overwrought to make sense of it and she almost didn't hear it when, half an hour or so later, Rhett suggested that Wade might like to show Ella his own stack of presents, most of which had already taken up residence in the children's playroom.

As the two of them ran eagerly out of the room, Scarlett startled to find herself alone with her husband. Twisting the duvet up between her hands, she stated as firmly as she was able, 'I need to get dressed now, Rhett.'

'Indeed.' He said, reaching up to pull something from his pocket. 'Only there is one more item I would like to give you first.'

'Another present?' She asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she wondered what was so special about this gift that he had felt the need to separate it from the rest.

'Of a sort, although I'm afraid it is worth significantly less than the others you've already received.'

Her interest dropping, Scarlett nevertheless held out her hand expectantly as Rhett drew nearer before indicating that she should move across so that he could sit down beside her.

She did so only under duress, reluctant to have him come too close when everything still felt so muddled between them. She was right to be cautious, for the moment he sat down, his hip pressing into her thigh and his face dangerously near to her own, she became uncomfortably aware of a marked increase in her heartbeat.

Unsure where to look, and unable to meet his focussed stare, her eyes settled instead of the third button of his shirt, fixing upon the object as if it was the only thing in the entire room that held any interest.

'Scarlett.'

'Yes?' She answered without altering her gaze, dreading his next words and the censure she felt sure they would contain.

'We are both of us too proud and highly-strung for apologies to come naturally. I suggest then that instead of endlessly reiterating past hurts we simply allow sleeping dogs to lie and let the bugles sing truce. Do you think that would be something you would be amenable to?'

Under normal circumstances, the fact that he was not willing to say sorry for his earlier behaviour would have caused her to rant and rail at him, but, as it was, she had been so sure that he was going to criticise her for the events of last night that the relief when he didn't made her unusually agreeable to his proposal and quickly she nodded her head.

'I am glad.' He said, the surprise at her assent evident in his voice as he cupped her knee in his palm and squeezed lightly.

Risking a glance up, Scarlett was shocked to see the uncertain, almost apprehensive look emblazoned across Rhett's face. His eyes cast downwards and his lips thin, he reminded her sharply of how Wade looked whenever she had reason to tell him off, his expression torn between shame and the notable desire for forgiveness.

Rhett cleared his throat and rubbed his neck distractedly. 'That said, there is one aspect of our quarrel that I wish to make amends for. My words were unduly harsh and I hope you will accept this small token as evidence of my true opinion of your pedigree.'

Unable to make head nor tail of his meaning, Scarlett sat blankly in front of him until he produced an object from his pocket and handed it over to her.

More confused than ever, she held the slim, heavy thing between her hands, her fingers running over the smooth, cold metal as her mind tried to understand what in the world Rhett thought she could ever want with a horseshoe.

She opened her mouth to question him when the memory of words he had thrown so spitefully in her direction came rushing back and snapped her jaw firmly shut.

 _Their money won't do them any good. Any more than my money has done you any good. It certainly hasn't made a horse out of you yet, has it, my pretty mule?_

Those words, an echo of Mammy's earlier damning assessment, had wounded her more deeply than all the other barbs and jibes he had thrown her way over the years. They had taken the very thing she feared most about herself, the niggling insecurity that was wont to keep her awake in the middle of the night, and used it to humble and belittle her. That they had come from Rhett, the man who seemed to know the inner workings of her mind better than she herself did, had made them even more painful to hear, for if anyone knew her well enough to make that sort of a judgement then surely it was him.

As she tightened her grip on the horseshoe, allowing its two points to dig into the soft flesh of her palms, she felt something that had lain raw and bleeding inside of her since the day he had first uttered them slowly begin to heal over.

'Do you like it?' He asked her for the second time that morning, his voice serious where once it had teased.

'Yes.' She said softly. 'It's lovely.'

The tension that had stifled the room for the last few minutes dissipated as Rhett let out a long breathe and pulled her in for a kiss.

Laughing against his lips, she pulled back enough to protest, 'Aren't I the one who's supposed to kiss you?'

'Ah, but this time it is I who has received the greater gift.' He replied jovially, eyes snapping playfully in a way that made her wish she hadn't ended their kiss so soon.

She pursed her lips in a silent demand for another, but Rhett did not see the gesture, rising up off of the bed and patting down his pocket from where the horseshoe had made it stick out awkwardly.

'I expect you are ravenous, my dear. All this present-opening on an empty stomach must have built up quite an appetite. I shall go and see that breakfast is ready on the table for when you come down. I'll call Mammy to lace you as well.'

Disappointed by his sudden retreat, but unwilling to express it, Scarlett simply nodded, watching him walk away with eyes that held far more interest than before.

She watched as his powerful shoulder muscles shifted beneath his jacket as he moved, the motion sending a jolt of heat from her belly down to a place she had scarce ever thought about until the events of last night had brought it screaming into focus.

In all the tumult, that was the one aspect that she had yet to think about. The one aspect that she had not dared to let herself dwell upon. After all, there had been precious little sense in even considering it when she had fully expected Rhett to react with scorn and harsh, mocking words.

Now though, it was different. He had not expressed one word of disapproval all morning, indeed had treated her with more affection than she had received from him since those first few glorious days of their honeymoon.

Dimly, she remembered the things he had said in the moments before she had fallen asleep, the kind, reassuring things that he had whispered and in which she had not dared to fully believe. Perhaps though he had meant it when he had said there was nothing for her to be ashamed of, that what she had experienced was only natural. Perhaps now they could even...

No. They could not do that. She could not let herself act so scandalously again no matter how wonderful it might have felt.

Assaulted suddenly by echoes of the sensations she had felt last night, sensations which had made her insides burn and freeze, her heart stop and her flesh turn to molten liquid upon the mattress, Scarlett blushed to her roots and squeezed her legs together, feeling once again the first vibrations of an ecstasy that had completely overwhelmed her.

These feelings must be the same ones which Mamie Bart and company had spoken of that day in her parlour and the thought that she could have that again, could climb once more upon those steep cliffs of pleasure only to fall into a ocean of mind-melting bliss was almost too tantalising to bare.

But how to broach the subject with Rhett? She certainly could not come straight out and demand it for then he would know the effect he had had on her and would be sure to use it to his advantage. To be in his power like that was not something that she would ever willingly consider.

Yet, there must be some other way, some more subtle avenue that, if walked down, would lead her back to the place she so wished to revisit.

She would just have to be clever in the way she went about it.

...

Ten minutes later when Mammy came into the room to find her charge still laying upon the bed, a look both determined and dangerously calculating etched across her young face, the old servant smiled and said a silent prayer for whoever it was that had inspired such an expression.

It was one she had seen countless times before and never yet had it led to anything other than Scarlett O'Hara getting exactly what she wanted.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks for all your support and kind words; it's lovely to be back. As most of you probably guessed, Scarlett's plan is about to go disastrously awry. These two just don't know a good thing when they've got it! Don't worry though, if this chapter's about the fighting then the next will definitely be all about the making up. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

Scarlett's hand shook slightly as she raised the brandy to her lips, her ears pricked to detect any movement from out in the corridor. It was still fairly early in the evening and the servants had yet to retire for the night, making the chances of one of them stumbling in on her impromptu tipple a very real possibility.

Despite the stigma attached to being caught drinking alone, Scarlett was too on edge to let this opportunity to steady her nerves pass her by. Already she had fidgeted her way through supper, her hands picking at imaginary stains in her skirt as she tried unsuccessfully to keep up with the conversation.

Rhett, irritatingly observant as ever, had even picked her up on it halfway through the dessert course, being bad mannered enough to suggest that, as she was incapable of sitting still in her seat, she should perhaps forgo a second helping of the sweet apple trifle they were enjoying as added sugar was unlikely to help her already jittery countenance.

She had tried to hold herself in check after that, frowning over at her husband and deliberately asking for such a large second portion that she had barely been able to finish it. Even now though, her stays cutting a little uncomfortably into her sides, she could not bring herself to regret the action. After all, when it came to besting Rhett, there was little that she was unwilling to endure.

Swallowing thickly, she shivered as a warm, familiar burn flooded her throat, her muscles relaxing as the alcohol helped to strengthen her wavering resolve.

She had been so determined all day, focussing only on the thought of reclaiming the heat that had engulfed her the previous night, that she had woefully underestimated how much courage it would take to be able to stand in front of Rhett and force the issue.

It had been bad enough when she'd had to ask him for money in the past, for he had an annoying habit of puffing up like a barnyard rooster whenever he felt that she needed him for something, strutting and posturing around the place until she dearly wanted to cut him back down to size.

But, now, it was unspeakably worse. For what she wanted from him tonight wasn't simply funds for a sawmill or an extra dress for her wardrobe, no, this time it was something far more personal that she was after.

A sudden creak caught her attention and swiftly she downed the rest of the drink, fumbling in her haste to place the empty glass back on the tray beside the decanter. The sound of light footfalls reached her ears and her heart stuttered in her chest, calming only when they passed by the door to the parlour and carried on towards Rhett's study.

Some part of her felt oddly disappointed when she realised her husband planned to retire there for the rest of the evening. It was silly as she should have been used to such behaviour by now. In the weeks before his trip to New Orleans he had always shut himself away after tucking the children into bed, preferring to spend his evenings in the company of stuffy old books and boring bank papers than in the presence of his wife.

She hadn't consciously been hoping that tonight would be different, but the presence of a newly-formed heavy weight in her stomach spoke volumes. Silently, she cursed herself for not having the foresight to try and intercept him in the corridor. Having to enter his study when she had never before sought him out there would be bound to raise Rhett's suspicions right from the start and make her task that bit harder.

Angrily, she wondered why he always had to make everything so much trickier for her. She was dreading their conversation enough as it was without him doing his utmost to make it worse.

Suppressing the more rational part of her mind that tried to remind her that Rhett knew nothing of her plans and was therefore unlikely to be acting deliberately, she continued to silently rage at him, taking refuge in her anger and the way it helped mask her more pressing fears.

Buoyed up by her tantrum, Scarlett squared her shoulders and readied herself for their encounter. As much as she would have liked to delay the moment, to indulge in another glass of brandy while going over her plan one more time, she knew she could not. Any longer and she would lose her nerve entirely. Already, the thought of abandoning the idea altogether and simply retreating upstairs to bed was beginning to encroach upon her mind and, were she to give in to the temptation, she knew she would never try anything like this again.

No, she was going to do it and she was going to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlett pushed all her concerns from her head and walked out of the room towards her husband's study.

Not wanting to back down, she knocked on the door the second she reached it, her heart pounding as she heard him call out for her to come in.

Opening the door, she had meant to stride confidently over to him and begin the conversation, not wanting to give him a chance to question her presence or pick up on her anxiety. Something about the scene before her made her stop in her tracks though and silently she stood on the threshold and stared.

The servant's had lit a fire and it crackled warmly in the hearth, cloaking the room in a beautiful, orange glow. The light flickered lovingly over the deep mahogany furniture, its simple, classical elegance so at odds with the rest of the house's décor, and over the wealth of papers laid out on the large, imposing desk.

An air of calm authority emanated out from where Rhett sat pouring over the papers, something about his businessman-like demeanour appealing greatly to her own hardworking mind. He kept his affairs so secret that rarely had she had the opportunity to see him like this, powerful and arresting in his high-backed chair, almost like a king upon his throne.

He had removed his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows while he worked, the sight of his strong, muscled forearms holding Scarlett's attention for longer than was probably wise.

'Scarlett?'

Snapping her head up to look at him, the twinkle in Rhett's eyes told her that this was not the first time that he had tried calling her name.

'Hmm?'

'I asked if you were well.'

'I'm fine, thank you.'

'Was there another reason for your looking in on me then? Not that I don't treasure your company, my dear, but it is not often that you feel the inclination to wander in to my study unannounced.'

Doing her best to gather her senses and ignore his taunting tone, Scarlett rallied. 'There was something I wanted to discuss with you.'

'Something so urgent that it could not wait until we have retired for the night?'

'I don't know if I'll still be awake by the time you finally decide to come up.' She sniped. 'Often you are down here so late that I'm surprised you bother to come to bed at all.'

If some of the teasing light fled from Rhett's face at her words then Scarlett was glad. It felt good to knock his infernal confidence for once and take charge of their exchange.

'Well, by all means, my dear, take a seat.' He said, waiting until she had sat herself down in the chair across the desk from his before leaning back and clasping his hands together as if she were a prospective business partner come to pitch him some new idea. 'What is it that you are so eager to discuss with me?'

Playing for time, Scarlett cleared her throat. She had spent a good part of the morning thinking up a way of guiding them back to the events of the previous night without making her intentions obvious. At first she had considered the traditional tactics she had used with such great effect during her days as a belle, had thought to dress up in her finest clothes and flatter Rhett with simpering looks and admiring words in order to get what she wanted.

While such ploys had never failed to work on the boys of Clayton County however, Rhett had always shown himself adverse to such measures, often openly declaring his dislike of being so artlessly manipulated in this way.

That in mind, she had abandoned a half-formed plan to come down to dinner dressed in the new green silk dress he had brought her back from New Orleans. In truth, the dress was far too fine to wear for a simple family mealtime anyway and she would have hated to risk spilling something on it before having had the chance to show it off to all her friends and neighbours.

Instead, she had tried to think of a way to stroke his vanity without appearing to do so. Men were all alike and, no matter how different Rhett may profess himself to be, she was in no doubt that underneath it all he desired the same thing that the rest of them did: to think themselves the masculine saviours of the pretty, clueless women in their lives.

It was practically the first trick a girl learned when she grew old enough to start courting. Pulled aside by her mother, she was taught to act silly and helpless and to make men feel as though they were stronger and cleverer and in everyway better than she herself could ever hope to be. Flattered so, men could not help but to fall in love with the girl that made them feel every bit as masculine as they had always envisioned themselves to be.

Rhett may not have liked for her to act brainless or flighty, but he had proven in the past that he still enjoyed being made to feel as though she relied upon him and it was this weakness that she planned to exploit for her own ends now.

'I was thinking that now the house is finally finished it would be nice if we held a party to celebrate our new home.'

'Go on.' He said, his dark eyes flickering with interest as he no doubt tried to understand what it was she was up to.

'Well, I just wanted to see what you thought of the idea. I was thinking we could arrange it in the style of a crush-'

'A crush?' He queried, eyebrows raised.

'Yes,' Scarlett said, warming to her theme. 'It's this new sort of party that's becoming ever so fashionable. Bridget Flaherty went to one last month and said it was the most tasteful thing she had ever seen.'

'I suspect Mrs. Flaherty and I have conflicting opinions on what constitutes good taste, my pet, but no matter.'

Frowning at his jibe, Scarlett continued. 'Yes, well, that's what I was wanting to talk to you about. You see, I want to make sure the party is a success, in fact I want it to be the grandest social event that Atlanta has ever seen and you're ever so good at that sort of thing Rhett that I was thinking if we worked together-'

'Worked together?' He asked, sounding genuinely surprised by her suggestion.

'Yes. It'll be the first time that we'll be hosting an event as a married couple and I want to make sure it's perfect.'

'And you think us working together will achieve that, do you?'

'Why wouldn't it?' Scarlett asked, offended by his insinuation.

'We've never managed it before now.' He said, his eyes sombre.

Confused, Scarlett countered. 'Why, of course we have! You gave me the money to buy my sawmill and you always help me when I have a business problem. Why, only a fortnight ago you saved me money by suggesting I should use your old friend Wilson as my main supplier.'

'Ah, yes.' He murmured, his lips thinning. 'How remiss of me to forget. When it comes to your businesses we are indeed a perfect team. It's just a shame our vocational harmony does not seem to be able to extend itself to the domestic sphere, isn't it, darling?'

Unable to make sense of his words, Scarlett chose instead to ignore them. 'So will you help me plan our crush, Rhett? It would mean ever so much to me if you did.'

'If that is what you so desire, Mrs. Butler.'

Though his easy assent surprised her, Scarlett could not help but feel as though the situation was quickly slipping out of her control. Rhett did not seem as flattered by her suggestion as she had expected him to and she decided that if their talk was to end the way she had been hoping it would, then she would have to raise her game significantly.

'I thought, as long as the weather holds, it would be nice to hold it both inside and out. It might be fun to spilt it so that I decorate one part and you the other. What do you think?'

'What do I think?' Rhett mused, a sharpness of focus entering his demeanour as he lent forward to brace his hands upon the desk. 'I think that you didn't really come in here to discuss your party, my pet, that's what I think.'

Flustered by he clear challenge in his eyes, Scarlett felt her cheeks flush as she struggled to retain her composure. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Rhett.'

'Oh, but I think that you do.' Rhett smiled darkly. 'Really Scarlett, did you expect me to believe that you would hand over control of your precious crush to me? I might be _ever so good at that sort of thing_ as you so charmingly put it, but when has a lack of experience ever stopped you before? This monstrosity of a house is testament to the fact that you would rather plunge ahead with your own misguided notions than listen to my thoughts on the matter. So, no, I do not think you came in here to ask my opinion. What I think is that you conjured up this little farce in the hope of prying something out of me. The only question now being, what exactly is it that you are after?'

'How dare you call my house a monstrosity!' Scarlett cried, enraged that he would dare to insult it knowing all the work she had put in to make it so grand. For months she had spent every hour of the day chasing up the builders, sourcing the furniture and arguing with the carpenters who seemed to think they knew what she wanted better than she herself did. It had been an exhausting time in which she had even had to neglect her store and mills in order to see it completed on schedule, a sacrifice which had pained her greatly and which seemed to mean nothing at all to Rhett if he could sit there and so calmly slight her efforts.

Her flimsy plan falling apart around her, Scarlett now thought only to put as much distance between herself and her unfeeling cad of a husband as she could, rising up from her chair with a start and hurrying back towards the door.

She had almost reached it when she felt him lay a restraining hand upon her arm. Trying to yank herself out of his grip, Scarlett let out a huff of annoyance as she was pulled around to face him.

'Not so fast, my pet. Before you retire, I would be interested to know exactly what your true intentions were in coming here this evening.'

'It doesn't matter.' Scarlett spat angrily, still twisting in an attempt to escape his hold.

A swift jerk to the right saw her almost manage to slip out of his grip and, in a move to restrain her, Rhett marched her backwards until she hit the wall beside the open doorway.

'It does to me.' He said, his dark eyes boring into her own as if trying to read her mind. 'What was it, Scarlett? Was it my precious money you were wanting? Hmm? Did you think that if you allowed me to help plan your little party I'd be more willing to lay my bank account at your mercy?'

'No!' She cried, struggling harder when his hands came up to roughly encircle her shoulders. 'Let me go, you skunk!'

Seeing her temper flare, Rhett only laughed mirthlessly. 'Not until you tell me why, Scarlett. Is it really so important to you to flaunt your new found wealth in your neighbours' faces? It is not enough that I already provide you with every material comfort your mercenary little heart could possibly desire, must they all be sick with envy too before you are satisfied?'

'I don't want your money!' Scarlett yelled, red-faced and frustrated. This evening could hardly have gone worse if she had deliberately been trying to sabotage it. The gentle, reverent man she had lain with last night seemed like a dream to her now, her husband transformed instead into his bitter, angry beast who shouted too loud and held her too tight and was consumed by an inner rage she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

'No? Well, there is a first time for everything, I suppose. Perhaps then it wasn't a cheque you were trying to pry out of me. If you did indeed want my help with the decorations then there must be someone you are eager to impress with the splendour of your crush.' He mocked, twisting the last word until it positively dripped with disdain. 'I hardly need to ask who that particular person is, do I, my dear?'

Scarlett looked up at him blankly and saw his lips stretch painfully thin.

'Ashley, my pet. Ashley. He is after all the only man you try so pathetically hard to appear lady-like in front of. If I was you though I wouldn't exert myself so, not to sound cruel, darling, but your little act isn't fooling anyone, not even a man as dim witted as the esteemed Mr. Wilkes.'

On hearing his words, Scarlett felt a flash of pure anger, white-hot and blistering, scour through her entire body. How dare he suggest that she was incapable of being a lady? Why, just this morning he had given her a gift meant to reassure her that he thought the exact opposite and yet here he was, mere hours later, ripping that gesture to shreds.

How she wished she held the horseshoe in her hands right now, for she would take great satisfaction in beating the man with it until he bled. She did not understand how someone could be so loving one moment and so horribly, painfully hateful the next. It was like having to share you life with two entirely different men, never knowing when one would shift seamlessly back into the other.

It was exhausting and Scarlett was too tired to deal with it. All day she had been fizzing with nervous energy only to see her plans come to nothing, this Rhett was not the one who had made love to her last night and, after what he had just said, she would not want him to touch her again now anyway.

The fire leaving her body, she looked up at him with defeated, tired eyes and whispered. 'Let me go.'

Something about the coldness of her words affected Rhett in a way her temper had not and instantly he released her, a flash of something which looked like remorse flashing across his tanned face.

 _Good._ Scarlett thought wearily. _He should feel bad for what he said to me._

'I'm going to go to bed.' She said, turning away from him towards the door.

She had almost reached it when she heard him clear his throat. 'Scarlett, I-'

'Goodnight, Rhett.' She said firmly, not wanting to hear anymore.

Silently, she crossed the threshold and headed towards the stairs, her heart yearning for something that it could not name and her body demanding something that it could not have.


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry for the delay, I'm going to try to update around once a fortnight for now and then hopefully increase it back up to the weekly posts sometime in the new year. Fingers crossed! Anyway, after what's been an intense old week politically-speaking, let's enjoy watching Rhett and Scarlett as they finally break down a few walls. Hope you like it._

* * *

The fire was burning low in the grate when Rhett finally closed up the file and admitted defeat. Despite a pressing need to get his business affairs back in order after his impromptu absence, he could not seem to settle himself down to the task.

Behind tired eyelids, images of his wife's face, first calculating and cautious, then enraged and passionate, played themselves out as if on an endless loop. From time to time, a third expression would flash past, often striking at the very moment when he was finally about to do some work, and cause him to throw down his papers in despair.

In all the years they had fought and baited one another, never had he seen her react quite like that. Unnerved by the way she had closed herself up and regarded him coldly out of weary, glacial eyes, he had found himself yearning for a return to her usual fiery, impassioned retorts. Scarlett's behaviour reminded Rhett unpleasantly of the inert, unfeeling look that would pass over her face whenever she spoke of her previous husbands and his chest clenched painfully at the thought that she was already beginning to consign him to that same dark, unvisited corner of her heart where Charles and Frank resided.

Sighing deeply, Rhett acknowledged that he had once again allowed his temper to get the better of him and, in doing so, had instantly undone all the good work he'd put in over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

Given his present situation, the thought that this time last night he had been in bed with his wife, holding her in his arms and watching as she took her pleasure from him, was almost too miserable to bear. He'd always had a talent for making the worst of a good situation, but tonight he had certainly outdone himself.

To think that he had been so happy all day, had enjoyed watching Scarlett walk around with a poorly concealed gleam in her eyes and a noticeable bounce in her step. The presents this morning had worked even better than he had hoped, diverting Scarlett's attention and reassuring her that her earlier actions had in no way lessened his opinion of her.

At dinner, watching her squirm and wriggle in her seat, her movements a sinful parody of the ones she had previously made in the darkness of their bedroom, he had practically had to sit on his hands to prevent himself from reaching over and pulling her onto his lap, so keen was he to feel her body writhe against his own once more.

He had been disappointed when he had come back downstairs after putting the children to bed to find that she had shut herself up in the parlour, the closed door a seemingly silent request for him to leave her alone. He had been looking forward to spending his first evening back at the house in her company and was disheartened, if not wholly unsurprised, to discover that she did not feel the same.

Resigning himself to yet another solitary night spent in his study, he had hardly been able to believe his eyes when Scarlett had appeared in the room a mere five minutes after he had first sat down at his desk.

Her cheeks flushed and with a few stray strands of hair escaping their clips and falling loosely around her face, he had almost thought her an apparition, a mirage created by his tired mind to soothe away the seemingly ever-present sting of disappointment.

That was, at least, until she had opened her mouth and started speaking.

 _A crush._ He sneered inwardly, his earlier anger rising up once again. She had honestly expected him to believe that she had wandered into unchartered territory with the sole purpose of speaking to him about some stupid party. Just how gullible did she think he was?

The crushing disillusionment had reminded him starkly of another occasion when he had come perilously close to falling for her sly machinations, an occasion in which, bar for a missing pair of gloves, he would surely have ended up laying the depth of his devotion bare to her cruel, cutting claws. He had told her then that he despised being lied to, hating that she thought she could manipulate him like one of her gormless Clayton County beaus. His aversion to such tactics ran deeper than a sense of wounded pride however, for it was the idea that he could not depend upon her to speak to him honestly that had always hurt the most.

That she could lie about the big things made him wonder just how many trifling, small mistruths she told him everyday and, for a man who so desperately wanted to know every last inch of his wife's mind, this constant sense of uncertainty frequently drove him to distraction.

He wanted so badly to be able to trust her. There were so few people in his life that he truly trusted and the thought that he could not count his own wife among their number pained him more than he could say. When he had first met Scarlett, he had been so sure that they were cut from the same cloth, that here, at last, was a woman to whom he could unburden even the darkest secrets of his soul without fear that she would turn away in disgust or use the revelations against him.

In hindsight, the man who had once thought such things seemed to him to be almost criminally naïve in his outlook, for now there was almost no one he would trust with such secrets less than his wilful wife. Rather than safeguard them against her chest, Scarlett would no doubt think only of how she could best use them to gain the upper hand. For that's all it seemed he was to her these days; a commodity to be utilised.

She wanted his money to show up the Old Guard. She wanted his design ideas to impress Ashley. She wanted everything from him but his actual self. For that, it seemed, held precious little value as far as she was concerned.

Her apathy might not have been such a problem, after all many marriages got by just fine with both parties showing only minimal interest in the other, were it not for one small stumbling block: try as he might, he simply could not stop loving her.

He knew if only he could train himself to stop caring then their marriage would become so much easier. They could be friends, the way they had been during her marriage to Frank, back when he'd thought secret buggy rides and private confidences were the most he'd ever be able to have with her. He had still desired her during that time of course, had found himself selecting only dark-haired, pale-skinned girls to share his bed and had often felt himself grow sick at the thought of Frank's doughy, lily-livered hands sliding across skin that his own so itched to stroke.

Still, at least then he had been able to take comfort in the thought that it was only her married status that was preventing them from truly being together. That, were it not for her hasty decision to wed Frank, she would have been his and they would have been happy. Now though, such assurances were worthless. His ring was on her finger and yet still he could not rightly call her his.

With that thought embedded deeply in his mind, Rhett rose and made his way upstairs, almost doing himself an injury when he tripped over something laying on the carpet just outside his bedroom door.

Cursing under his breath, he bent down to pick the offending item up, already making a note to chastise the children on the dangers of leaving their toys lying around where anyone could fall over them in the night. When he finally caught hold of it though, he realised his ire was misdirected, the object belonging not to Wade or Ella, but rather to Scarlett.

Something uncomfortably close to shame washed over him as he recognised the horseshoe in his hands, imagining the fit of pique that must have engulfed Scarlett to see her rush to locate the gift and fling in bodily from their bedroom.

Only this morning he had headed down to the stables while she lay sleeping, the idea to add the unassuming object to the already extensive pile of presents he had brought her back from New Orleans having come to him sometime during the early hours. It had struck him as the perfect way to both atone for the harsh words he had flung her way on the morning of their initial fight and to assure her that her unexpected display of night-time passion had in no way lessened the regard in which he held her.

She had received the token far better than he had expected her to, instantly grasping the silent meaning behind the present with a perceptiveness foreign to her usually oblivious mind. She had seemed touched by the sentiment behind the gesture too, a hazy memory of the softness that had swept across her face and the dizzying way she had laughed against his lips when he'd pulled her in for a kiss assaulting Rhett suddenly and making him yearn to turn back the clock just a few pivotal hours.

Caressing the cold metal between his palms, Rhett studied the horseshoe as best he could in the gloomy light of the hallway and felt a weight settle in his stomach as he wondered if perhaps he hadn't been gravely mistaken in his earlier assumptions about Scarlett's motivations. He prided himself on being able to read her and, while he was certain that there had to be an alternate reason behind her sudden desire to hold a crush, he had to admit that she had seemed remarkably earnest when declaring that neither a desire for his money nor a predilection for impressing Ashley had been the underlying cause.

At the time, and given her past behaviour, those had seemed like the two most likely options, but perhaps it had been remiss of him not to consider a third before opening his mouth and accusing her. After all, he knew better than anyone just how dearly she wanted to be thought of as a great lady. He alone knew how great a impression her mother's legacy had left upon her consciousness and how guilty she felt each time her indiscretions inevitably saw her falling far short of the mark.

Perhaps she had reached out to him in the hope he would help temper her more extreme choices, adding a touch of restraint and class to plans which would doubtless veer dangerously towards the vulgar if she were left to oversee them unchecked. The thought of Scarlett worrying about such matters, and turning to him in the hope of a solution, made him feel oddly protective of his young bride and reminded him that, underneath her hardened, world-weary veneer, lay an unschooled country girl who would need guidance and support if she were ever to achieve her wildly improbable dream.

In light of this new consideration, the words he had so unthinking thrown at her back down in his study now returned to haunt him. Not only had he flatly refused to assist her, but he had also gone so far as to state that she was no lady and never would be.

 _Not to sound cruel, darling, but your little act isn't fooling anyone._

 _Not to sound cruel._ Yet, that's exactly how he had intended to sound. She had hurt him so he had wanted to hurt her back. It was purely instinctual now, a habit so over-used that it had become nigh on impossible to break. All thoughts of the horseshoe and the silent declaration he had made her that very same morning had flown completely out of his head when faced with the sudden overriding need to see her humbled. It seemed that, no matter how serious his intentions to change, they were doomed to spend their days going round and round in ever more vicious circles, tearing each other down a little bit more each time until one day soon there would be nothing new left to say, not one ugly, vile insult left to throw at the other that they wouldn't have already had levelled at them a hundred times before.

It was shameful and tawdry and it was killing him. Slowly but surely, it was destroying the man he wanted to be and the husband he had once been so intent on becoming. With every nasty word he sent her way he lost a little more of himself, moved a little further from that idealised version of Rhett that he had once felt only she could inspire in him. He no longer counted winning a fight against her as a victory, for he now knew that both of them lost whenever conversation broke down into conflict.

Defeated, and determined to atone for his earlier outburst, Rhett clutched the horseshoe tightly in his hand when he entered the bedroom, failing to hold back a rueful smile when he realised his wife was once again engaged in a futile attempt to convince him that she was already asleep.

Curled up on her side, Scarlett was busy emitting soft, breathy and -to Rhett's well-trained ears at least- obviously false sounds every couple of seconds. Watching her clumsy performance, Rhett felt last of his anger drain silently away, replaced instead by an overwhelming need to reach out and touch her.

Kneeling down by the side of the bed, he ran a hand through her flowing hair, slipping his fingers underneath her black tresses to delicately cup the back of her neck in his palm.

His eyes fixated upon her face, he smiled as he watched her frown at his actions, her whole body tensing as she no doubt struggled to remain still. He could almost see the desire to leap up and start shouting at him as it played itself out across her brow, her lips pursing up in a way that doubtlessly conveyed her displeasure and yet only made him long to lean down and smother her with kisses until she forgot her ire altogether.

Forcing himself to hold back, he ran the tips of his fingers across the smooth skin of her neck, pulling back the thick blanket so he could continue his path up over the swell of her shoulder and down the bare length of her arm. Circling her wrist, he played with her slender fingers for a moment, enjoying how she fought stubbornly to keep her eyes closed even when the lover-like sensations made her breath catch tellingly in her throat.

Rhett shifted on his knees to find a more comfortable positon, transferring the horseshoe from one hand to the other as he moved. Struck by a sudden, playful idea, he reached up and pressed the two metal prongs of the object gently against the length of Scarlett's exposed neck, careful not to let it dig in when she flinched away from the unexpectedly cold touch. Following the same path his fingers had carved out mere moments before, he slowly dragged the horseshoe down his wife's arm, enjoying the fine trail of goose pimples that shivered into life in his wake.

As he moved lower, her arm grew slim enough to allow him to slide the entire horseshoe down around her limb, almost as if she were wearing a clucky silver bracelet, until, upon reaching her hand, he turned to press the body of the object into her palm and carefully closed her fingers up around it.

'It's yours.' He said simply, hoping that she would grasp his meaning as well the second time around as she had on the first.

After a few moments of obstinacy, her eyes finally flickered open, their expression cautious yet searching as they gazed upon him.

Holding her stare, Rhett decided it was time to concede a little further. 'Though I wouldn't blame you for having changed your mind, if you still require my assistance in organising a crush, I would be only too honoured to provide it.'

Scarlett tensed back up at his words, moving to turn away before a restraining hand upon her shoulder halted her in her tracks. 'Rhett-'

'No, Scarlett. You asked me for my help and I should have given it. No accusations. No recriminations. Indeed, I can think of nothing that I would enjoy more than the chance to share in this endeavour with you. Together, we shall throw the first, and most infamous, crush that this fair city has ever seen.' Noticing her lips twitch involuntarily, Rhett grinned devilishly and grew determined to draw out the sweet peal of her laughter. 'Years from now, long after you and I have departed this mortal coil for pastures new, people will still gather in the streets to reminiscence upon the most illustrious, decadent night ever to have taken place this side of New Orleans. There will be books written on the subject, my dear, stacks and stacks of them. So many in fact that they will have to build entire new libraries just to hold them all. Thousands of men will have to be employed to complete the task, more than were needed to build even the great pyramids of Egy-'

'Oh, Rhett, do hush up!' Scarlett cried, rolling her eyes even as his foolish words made her preen vainly. 'You're talking ever such a lot of old nonsense.'

'Not nonsense, my pet. Fact.' He teased, his eyes glinting brightly in the darkness as he took in her drastically improved mood.

Without a thought, he reached over and pulled her into a kiss, relishing the way her lips were still stretched out into a smile even as they moved against his.

Leaning back, he cupped her cheek reverently for a moment before moving to stand up, almost toppling over onto the bed when she surprised him by lurching forward and pulling him into another kiss, this one far more passionate than the last.

Rhett barely dared to breathe as Scarlett wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his upper body onto the bed and crushing their torsos together as her mouth began demanding things that he was only too willing to give her.

Unable to shake the sensation that he was dreaming and would surely awaken at any moment to find that he had fallen asleep at his desk in the study, as alone and unmissed as ever, Rhett forced himself to end the kiss and pull back. Staring down at Scarlett, he almost expected to see her to curl her lips up in derision and mock him for ever being foolish enough to think that she would seek out his touch in such a manner.

Far from finding contempt in her eyes however, Rhett felt his heart seize up at the mix of nervousness and determination he saw emblazoned there, her emerald orbs shining as brightly as they had been in the first few minutes after she'd entered his study.

'Scarlett?' He questioned uncertainly, despising the way his voice wavered on the last syllable like that of an inexperienced schoolboy.

He held his breath as her cheeks coloured prettily, her eyes seemingly begging for something that her lips didn't quite know how to ask for.

'What is it, honey?' he asked, cupping her flushed cheek in his palm. 'What do you want?'

The answer, when it finally came, was rushed and mumbled and so very quiet that he was half convinced he had imagined it. For, surely, it was far too perfect to be true.

'Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat it?'

Scarlett scowled up at him from under slanting brows and would most likely have pushed him off of her altogether had he not had the sense to hold onto her. As it was, it suddenly seemed all too imperative that he did not let this moment slip through his fingers and so, clutching her tightly, he decided to chance his arm a little, leaning down to kiss her before whispering against her lips.

'Please.'

Her body relaxing a fraction in his arms, she seemed to gather the fighting spirit that he had always so admired, her face certain and her tone sure as she looked him directly in the eye and stated clearly, 'You, Rhett. I want you.'

Swallowing thickly, he felt his own insecurities fall away when confronted with her show of courage. Overcome by need, he felt the old, assured Rhett Butler begin to re-emerge, his movements growing stronger and his voice deeper as he bent down and murmured a heated promise into her ear.

'Then by all means, Mrs. Butler, you shall have me.'


	12. Chapter 12

_Ok, so this chapter takes place roughly two weeks after the last one finished and mainly deals with Rhett and Scarlett organising their tax returns...just kidding, I value my life too much to do that to you! Sticking with Rhett's PoV for no other reason than my attempt to write it from Scarlett's was a complete disaster, it picks up right where chapter 11 left off. Hope you enjoy._

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Rhett's fingers were steady when they reached out to brush across his wife's cheek, his mind torn between amusement and arousal as he saw the effect his words had had on her. Pupils dilating until her eyes resembled two deep black pools encircled by only the thinnest of emerald outlines, Scarlett's whole body seemed to melt back into the mattress as she swallowed thickly and gave a small, almost invisible nod of her head.

Emboldened, and more than a little pleased, by the strength of her response, Rhett wasted no time in lavishing the length of her neck and jaw with kisses as his hands roughly pushed the blankets off her body towards the bottom of the bed.

Feeling Scarlett shiver as the chilly night air slid across her newly exposed skin, Rhett wrapped his arms around his wife to shield her from the worst of the cold, cocooning her slim frame within the warmth of his larger one.

Gently, he pushed against her legs with his thigh, pressing insistently until she parted them wide enough to let him slip in between. Memories of the previous night assaulting his vision, he wondered if he would be forced to settle for more of the same again tonight. For, though he had certainly cherished the experience, it would be a lie to suggest he'd be completely satisfied if their second encounter was to progress no further than their first.

'What do you want?' He asked again, his voice hoarser now that he could feel the soft heat of her pressing heavily against the top of his thigh.

By way of response, Scarlett twisted her fingers up into his hair, purposefully pulling him away from his exploration of her neck and instead directing his mouth up towards hers.

The kiss they shared was frenetic and sloppy, their teeth clanging together painfully until Rhett took control and steered them back towards calmer shores. Deep inside, he exulted at the extent of her passion, the way it overrode her usual concerns and exposed the raw, almost vicious sexuality that he had always known lay hidden somewhere beneath her virginal, belle-like veneer.

'What do you want, Scarlett?' He asked a third time. Accompanying his question with a sly roll of his hip, he watched as the first stirrings of pleasure stole across her face, her eyes fluttering shut as her mouth slowly curled itself up into a perfect, crimson circle.

'Do you want what you had last night?' He murmured enticingly into her ear as, below, he gradually increased the speed and pressure of his movements until she clung to him almost desperately. 'Because, if you do, you can have it, my pet. I'll give it to you now, all you have to do is ask.'

Seeing that an affirmation was close to the tip of her tongue however, Rhett could not help but push his luck a little. 'Or, if you're feeling brave enough, my dear, we could always try something slightly different.'

He knew it wasn't strictly fair of him to manipulate her like this, using her seemingly inexhaustible need to beat him to dare her into walking further down a path that over twenty years of rigid teaching had made her think was visited only by whores and other such loose, immoral women.

If it was only for his own enjoyment, then he would not have baited her so for, red-blooded as he was, he would not wish to do her harm in order to sate his own impulses.

As it was though, Rhett was convinced that Scarlett only needed a little more encouragement to finally break free of her remaining fears and embrace their love making whole heartedly. He knew that she had correctly read the challenge in his tone from the way her thick brows slanted downwards into a dark scowl and could not help but chuckle in response. Watching her closely, he followed the struggle between what she wanted and what she had been taught was proper as it played itself out across the plains and valleys of her face.

Sensing her rising panic, Rhett realised that perhaps she wasn't yet ready to tackle such deep-seated issues and decided to give her a temporary reprieve. Running his fingers across her forehead as if to smooth away her frown lines, his voice was carefully devoid of anything that could be misconstrued as either criticism or mockery as he told her that it was quite alright if she needed more time to come around to the idea.

'In fact,' he teased, making sure to rock his thigh against her most sensitive of spots as he spoke, 'if it means we get to do this everynight, then feel free to deliberate over the decision forever, my dear.'

Meaning to kiss away her remaining anxiety, Rhett paused when he felt her lips turn cold and unresponsive beneath his own. Her lack of emotion made him fearful that he had grossly overplayed his hand and the thought that he now stood to lose the entire pot as a consequence of his reckless actions overwhelmed him.

'Scarlett?' He questioned, not daring to look at her for fear of what he might find.

'No.' She said simply, her voice sounding dreadfully resolute to his ears.

'No?'

'No. I mean that, yes, I want to try something different.'

Stunned by her assertion, Rhett could only parrot mindlessly. 'Something different?'

'Yes.' Scarlett nodded firmly, her own resolve appearing to strengthen in reaction to Rhett's unusual show of hesitancy. 'I'm not some yellow-bellied coward, Rhett. I'm braver than Mamie and Sylvia and Bridget put together and I won't have you molly coddling me like a child anymore!'

Pausing but a moment to wonder where exactly Scarlett's three cronies fit into this situation, Rhett could not help but feel hugely proud of his wife's spirited outburst. He knew only too well that, were you to scour the length and breadth of the country, you would not be able to find another woman who would answer him as she had just done.

Since his wedding day, he had felt the occasional regret at having so willingly traded in the glorious freedoms of his former bachelor's life for the tedious constraints of marriage, but those fierce words, as spoken by a woman as enchanting and infuriating as Scarlett, finally succeeding in quashing every last one.

She was it for him. Of that there could be no further doubt. His love for her put other men's affairs to shame for their pitiful, pale dalliances could no more measure up against his adoration for Scarlett than a back-broken old mule could hope to compete with an award-winning, thorough-bred of a stallion.

Determined to do everything in his power to make her feel the same, Rhett vowed to devout the next few hours to driving her to heights she had as of yet scarcely dreamed of, much less ever experienced.

His own desire was no longer of any consequence, for, if he handled this carefully, he felt confident there would be plenty of time for that in the future. For tonight though, his focus would be on her and her alone.

'It was never my intention to treat you like a child, Scarlett.' He answered truthfully. 'But you're right, you are without a doubt the bravest woman I have ever known and it is about time that I stopped trying to shield you from certain experiences.'

Rhett's eyes glinted as Scarlett simpered at his words of praise. The devil in him that lived to goad her longed to add that there was a whole range of other words he could have used to describe her in that particular sentence, 'selfish' and 'stubborn-headed' being chief amongst them, but, wisely judging that such a tactic was unlikely to help his cause, he decided to hold his tongue just this once.

Returning his attention instead to the matter at hand, he moved to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her nightgown, sliding slowly downwards until his fingers caught in the garment's hem.

No sooner had he begun to lift it up from her waist however, than Scarlett stiffened in his embrace, her hands jerking down to clasp around his.

'Don't.' She said, cheeks aflame, as she hastily pushed it back down around her.

For a moment he thought to argue the point, wondering how the same woman who had just asked to be shown more could, mere seconds later, turn around and refuse to take off her nightgown. His wife had always been a woman of multiple, often maddening, contradictions though, and this, it seemed, was to be no exception.

 _Small steps_. He reminded himself, reluctantly letting go of her nightgown without a fight and instead trying to decide how best to work within the narrow parameters she had just set.

Trailing his fingers back up, he made idle, swirling patterns across the silken fabric as he mused, teasing over the flat of her stomach with his palm and raking his nails along the sensitive skin of her sides almost unconsciously.

His hands coming to rest upon her impossibly small waist, he squeezed lightly before cautiously moving up to caress the underside of her breasts, expecting to feel her push him away at any moment. When no such rebuff came, he decided to let his fingers linger there for a while, listening to Scarlett's breath as it ebbed and flowed like the tide, his thumbs slowly inching upwards with every inhale until they met the hardened peaks of her nipples.

Circling them with only the lightest of barely-there touches, he gradually moved inwards, using her gasps and stilted moans as a guide of how and where she most liked to be touched.

A few minutes of concentrated, enthusiastic study were enough to teach him that firm rubs caused long, drawnout sighs and flicking an unhappy flinch, while gentle, playful pinches brought forth reluctant, almost guttural groans. It was when he lowered his mouth to them that he knew he had struck gold however, a combination of strong sucks and softer nibbles unleashing sounds he had never even known she was capable of making and which made his own desire for her climb to new, previously unreached heights.

With his mouth thus occupied, Rhett eagerly snaked his hand back down the length of her torso, slipping past the bottom of her nightgown and tangling itself up in the slick, black curls that lay beneath.

Stroking her quietly as one would a nervous and easily spooked animal, Rhett gradually let the tip of his middle finger edge lower, hovering over warm, damp flesh until it bumped against a place that made Scarlett yerk as if stung and bolt upright on the bed.

Thrown backwards by the force of her movement, Rhett found himself suddenly kneeling up on the mattress, his wife's flushed and furious face mere inches from his own.

'How dare you touch me like that!' She cried, her heavy panting drawing Rhett's eyes down to where the moistened material around her breasts was rising and falling hypnotically with every laboured breath. 'If that's your idea of 'something different' then I want no part in it! You're a cad, Rhett Butler, that's what you are, corrupting-'

'Shh, Scarlett. There's nothing indecent in what we just did.'

'We?' She shrieked. 'It was you! I don't even know why I let you touch me at all!'

'Because I'm your husband and the law says I can touch you in any damn way I see fit, that's why.' He said, his voice rising as his temper began to wear thin. The continual advances and retreats that characterised their couplings were stretching his patience to breaking point and he did not know how much more of it he would be able to endure. It was just so frustrating to constantly think he was finally beginning to make some headway only to have his slim victory snatched back from him at the very next turn.

No matter the extent of his aggravation though, he instantly regretted his loss of control when he saw how his words made Scarlett scramble back towards the headboard, almost as if she was actually afraid that he would try to carry them out. He would never take her against her will, surely she must know that?

The downright fearful look in her eyes said differently however, and it pained him greatly to see it. Sagging under the weight of this new, unwelcome revelation, Rhett reached out and pulled Scarlett onto his lap, ignoring her initial protests as he wrapped his arms around her shaking form and cradled her close to his chest.

'Shh, honey. It's alright.' He whispered into her tumbled curls. 'I don't want to hurt you, my pet. I only want to make you feel good. You did feel good last night, didn't you, Scarlett?'

The minute it took her to answer him was one of the longest of his entire life, the sudden thought that she hadn't actually enjoyed what they had shared gripping him fiercely and threatening to destroy everything he'd thought they'd built up in the last twenty four hours. The relief that poured through him when he finally felt her nod was immeasurable, his answering smile so bright it threatened to set the entire room ablaze.

'That's all I was trying to make you feel when I touched you just now, Scarlett. That's all.'

His soft words were met with silence and they spent the next few minutes rocking slowly back and forth together upon the bed, Rhett's earlier worries gradually drifting away as he breathed in the comfortingly familiar scent of her lemon verbena perfume.

The kiss, when it came, was small and hesitant and wholly unexpected, Scarlett twisting her body around until they faced each other and pecking him softly on the lips.

Taking heart from her gesture, Rhett deepened the kiss, leisurely lapping at her mouth until it parted to let him inside. Teasing her tongue with his, Rhett felt Scarlett begin to surrender to his touch, her body melting into his as her legs curved themselves around his waist.

Aligned thus, Scarlett's breasts pressed distractingly into his chest and reminded him sharply of his over dressed state. Breaking the kiss with a palpable sense of reluctance, Rhett carefully laid Scarlett back down upon the mattress and wasted no time in divesting himself of his clothes before moving to cover her once again.

Abandoning his earlier, half-formed plans to draw her out of her shell a little more, Rhett instead decided that what they both needed most was simply to be close to one another, to draw comfort and pleasure from each other's bodies in one of the oldest and most primitive of ways known to man.

Reaching down, he stroked himself firmly, shutting his eyes against the initial tendrils of ecstasy as they slowly uncoiled and spread themselves out across his body.

Bringing Scarlett up into a passionate kiss, he poured his soul into every quirk of his lips and twist of his tongue, baring himself openly in a way he was sure she would not be able to read.

He let her undulate against his thigh as he kissed her, hoping her efforts would help to reignite the desire that had burned so brightly only the previous night. Her quickening breath and rougher, almost aggressive writhing told him that she was falling fast and, not wanting to break the momentum, he hastily positioned himself at her opening and moved inside, his hips instantly picking up the rhythm that hers had worked to establish.

Her heat and softness enclosing him like a silken vice, Rhett's movements faltered slightly as the sensations threatened to overtake him. Desperately he fought to hold out against them, refusing to let his own needs ruin his plans and bring the evening to a swift and highly unsatisfactory end.

Biting his lower lip until the bitter, metallic tast of blood filled his mouth, Rhett forced himself to concentrate on his wife, ignoring the sparks of pleasure that each new stroke set off and instead focussing solely upon the sounds and sighs they produced in Scarlett.

Not daring to try and use his hand on her a second time, instead he cast around for another means of friction, his mind scrambling from one poorly formed notion to the next until he finally hit upon a potential solution. Shifting his stance, Rhett pushed up higher on his forearms so that his pubic bone began to move against Scarlett's core, the steady, unyielding action causing her to cry out and dig her fingernails sharply into his biceps.

Fired up by her response, Rhett lowered his head and mouthed helplessly at her jaw, his every muscle straining as he fought to keep his movements shallow and sure so as not to lose contact with the place where she needed him most.

Her throaty moans filled his ear and sent his own pleasure spiralling, making the need to push her over the edge before he himself fell an ever more pressing one. Reaching down, Rhett cupped the backs of Scarlett's thighs in his hands, using the extra leverage to help rock her back and forth more firmly, the constant, dragging motion it produced sending both of their heartrates soaring.

'Rhett.' She gasped breathily against his ear, her hands reaching down to cup the swell of his buttocks and urge him on.

The touch sent thousands of tiny sparks shooting through his body and stubbornly he battled against his own need for release, moving her harder and faster against him as he silently begged her to finish. He flinched as her hands raked across his bare back, clawing their way up his spine and winding themselves up in the hair of his nape. Blindly, he felt her tug at his head until he turned it towards her, breathless, panting kisses passing back and forth between the two until he pulled back and groaned her name.

'Scarlett.'

Whether it was his voice or his touch that did it, he would never know, but, at that very moment, he felt her whole body seize up, every single inch of her pulling impossibly taut as a silent scream left her lips and her muscles clenched savagely around the length of him.

Trapped in her suddenly unbearably-tight, blisteringly-hot embrace, Rhett felt his own release being wrenched out from somewhere deep inside of him, white light flashing across his vision and sending him crumpling down on top of his equally exhausted wife.

He lay there without moving for what felt like an eternity, neither willing nor able to roll away. Indeed, he would happily have stayed there forever if only Scarlett hadn't started wriggling around underneath him, his heavy weight no doubt becoming too much for her small frame to bear.

Gathering what little energy remained, he reluctantly moved off of her, stretching out a hand to pull her along with him as he flipped over onto his back. Wrapping Scarlett up in his arms, Rhett toed at the blanket until he got it high enough to be able to reach down and pull it over the two of them.

Settling themselves down, Rhett sighed as he felt Scarlett's head work its way into the warm space between his shoulder and neck, judging that the near constant tickle of her cool breath over his sweat-soaked skin was only too small price to pay to have her sleep so near.

His own breathing beginning to return to normal, Rhett felt his spirits reviving and could not resist the chance to tease his wife a little.

'Was that 'different' enough for you, my pet?' He joked lightly, chuckling into the darkness as he stroked his cheek against her smooth hair.

He laughed harder still when Scarlett slapped at his chest in response and pulled her tighter against his side, overcome by a sudden rush of affection for her.

'Go to sleep, my dear.' He crooned lightly against her ear. 'For tomorrow we start planning our crush.'


	13. Chapter 13

The sun was already up when Scarlett awoke the next morning, her whole body feeling lax and curiously heavy as she lay beneath the sheets. Blinking slowly, she yawned and stretched her arms out above her head, flinching slightly as a startling, but increasingly familiar, ache reverberated its way through her lower stomach.

For once the feeling was not accompanied by a grimace or a blush as she recalled the events of the night before, but rather a small, cautious smile as she remembered the way she had stood up for what she wanted and the air of dedication with which Rhett had set about giving it to her.

She could scarcely believe the things she had done under the cover of darkness, less still the way it had made her feel. Wrapped up in Rhett's fierce embrace, she had not felt the usual stirrings of discomfort and frustration that tended to accompany such couplings, but instead had been overcome by a sense of power and exhilaration as if freed from chains which had bound her the length of her entire adult life.

The thought that she could have felt this way sooner, that such sensations had been there along, waiting silently for her to reach out and claim them was an potent one, and yet, Scarlett found that she did not regret having waited so long to do so.

Little could she imagine ever having acted so wildly in front of either Charles or Frank. Surely both men, prissy as they'd been, would not have relished her actions even half as thoroughly as Rhett had seemed to. Neither had possessed his forward thinking, practical mindset and would no doubt have been highly uncomfortable with the notion of their wife daring to demand that her own pleasure be satisfied.

More than that though, the very thought of wanting to be with them in so passionate a manner seemed utterly unthinkable to Scarlett. Never had she felt herself grow weak from their kisses or spent the early hours laying awake running her hands through the thick, coarse strands of their hair. Only with Rhett had she experienced such urges and only with him could she envisage being brought to such peaks as she had these last two nights.

There was something undeniably physical about her third husband, a quality that her first two had pointedly lacked. It was there in the playful, knowing glint in his eye and the strain of well-defined muscles beneath tight, tanned skin. As unaffected as she had always been by his good looks, she was not blind to them, and even she could appreciate the benefits of lying with a man as outwardly imposing as Rhett.

It made her skin tingle just to remember the strong, yet lover-like, manner in which he had handled her, the patient way he had fanned the flames of her desire and the look of reverence on his swarthy face as he had sat back and watched them catch fire.

The look of total concentration and awareness that he had worn throughout both of their encounters had made her feel as if her every move and breath was being catalogued and analysed and she found to her surprise that she rather enjoyed being scrutinised so closely. There was something elicit and rather thrilling about being on the receiving end of Rhett's undivided attention. Though she had experienced it before when they argued or discussed their businesses, never had the strength of his unwavering stare warmed her quite as thoroughly as this. It made her blood boil to think about how much time she had wasted since their marriage and how much pleasure her own ignorance and other men's incompetence had led her to be denied.

She had always known that marrying Rhett would open her up to a whole new world of experience, but had imagined it would be his money and not his body that would hold the key to her future happiness. After the last two nights though, she could not help but feel a new appreciation for the man, deciding that, for all his faults, he may well prove useful to have around after all.

A ripple of desire shivered through her at the memory of how his arms had braced either side of her head, his muscles tense and bulging as he rocked relentlessly back and forth above her. Her head growing dizzy, Scarlett sat up in bed and cast her eyes around the room in search of her husband, unsure whether she was pleased or disappointed to find him absent. Being able to rearrange herself away from his prying eyes was undoubtedly a good thing, but still, after all that had passed between them the previous night, she could not truthfully say that waking up without him did not unsettle her somewhat.

Rising up off her bed, she quickly did her ablutions before walking over to the dressing table and beginning the seemingly insurmountable task of trying to tame her hair. Normally, seeing her silken tresses in such a state of disarray would have sparked a tantrum of monumental proportions, but today Scarlett found that she was too preoccupied by the other changes in her face and body to work up that much of a fuss.

The soft red blush across her cheeks made her wonder if she'd somehow managed to apply rouge to her face during the night while the sparkle in her eyes was so entrancing that she could scarce tear herself away from the mirror.

It was her frame that had undergone the most noticeable transformation however, where before there had been a permanent stiffness around her shoulders and upper back, making her look like she was trying to conceal a ramrod beneath her stays, now there was only looseness and ease, each muscle flowing seamlessly into the next and cloaking her in an air of softness that seemed utterly at odds with her inner steely disposition.

She was still standing in front of her dresser, hairbrush laying forgotten in her hand as she spun from side to side so as best to view herself from every angle, when Rhett walked in, breakfast tray in hand.

She was too preoccupied with examining herself to hear his approach and almost jumped out of her skin when she heard his amused chuckle from right behind her ear.

Hand clutching her throat, Scarlett met his eyes in the mirror, scowling darkly when she saw how her fright had tickled him.

'Are you trying out some new dance steps, my dear?' He asked lightly, mischief embedded in every line and crevice of his face.

Hot with embarrassment, Scarlett threw down the brush and ran back to bed, the sudden need to hide herself away beneath the covers consuming her.

Unperturbed by her unusual reaction, Rhett only smiled as she briefly went about rearranging the blankets so that they were pulled right up against her chin.

'I'm all for returning to bed, Mrs. Butler, but you may find it a little hard to eat your breakfast while lying flat on your back.'

Scarlett frowned and thought about declaring that she wasn't feeling hungry just to spite him, but unfortunately the smell of freshly baked pastry was making her stomach rumble louder than an oncoming freight train and there was little chance that Rhett hadn't heard it.

Besides, it had been so long since he had thought to bring her breakfast in bed that she didn't have the heart to dismiss his efforts. Back during their honeymoon, scarcely a day had gone by in which he hadn't hastened down to the hotel kitchens while she slept, using his considerable charm to coax the chef into breaking with tradition and allowing them to eat a personalised, private meal up in their rooms. She smiled as she remembered how he'd used to wake her with whispers of all the culinary delights that lay in store for her, drawing her sweetly out of her slumber with promises of toast dripping with lashings of golden butter and muffins so sugary they would make her tongue tingle just to look at them.

She had not realised just how keenly she had missed this early morning ritual until she was presented with it again now, the long months of waking to find the bed empty and Rhett already having left for work receding like an unpleasant dream as she sat up eagerly against the headboard and tried to peer over the lip of the tray to see what treasures it contained.

Rhett grinned at her actions as he lowered himself down onto the bed by her side, annoying Scarlett by being sure to keep the tray safely out of the reach of her curious hands.

'Not so fast, my dear.' He chided, laying the tray over his lap and picking up a slice of toast laden with jam. 'Now, open wide.'

Scarlett's eyes narrowed, but she opened her mouth without complaint. She'd forgotten how much Rhett used to enjoy feeding her from his hand back when they were newly-weds and, while the practice has always made her feel slightly silly, she did not want to protest for fear that he would take back the food and refuse to ever bring it to her like this again.

Though the feel of his fingers, large and warm as they pressed against the smooth skin of her lips, unnerved her, she could not deny there was something nice about having him treat her so tenderly. It made her feel spoilt and slightly giddy as she sat upon the bed, her cheeks heating with every bite she took and unable to ignore the penetrating, affectionate looks that Rhert kept throwing in her direction.

By the time she swallowed down the last few crumbs, her mouth was dry and her skin uncomfortably itchy. Fighting against the sudden urge to squirm under Rhett's unflinching gaze, Scarlett sighed in relief when he went back to the tray and handed her a glass of ice cold apple juice to ease her parched throat.

Sipping from it slowly, she savoured its cool sweetness as she sunk back against the headboard and watched as Rhett wolfed down three slices of toast and a muffin in quick succession.

The way the tight muscles in his forearm flexed as he moved brought forth sinful memories of the previous night and Scarlett had to shake her head vigorously in a bid to make them disperse.

'So, shall we begin?' Rhett asked, his words making Scarlett seize up, struck by the sudden fear that her husband had somehow learnt to read her mind.

'Excuse me?'

'The _crush_.' He said, accompanying the word with a mocking grin and a shudder as if it pained him to have to say it. 'Shall we begin planning it?'

Relief swamped Scarlett as she realised her scandalous thoughts were safe from him after all. Though she was slowly growing more accustomed to acting them out under the reassuring cover of darkness, the idea of having her cruder impulses exposed to the harsh light of day was far too humiliating to even contemplate.

Although, the thought of having to discuss the upcoming crush with Rhett wasn't a particularly appealing one either. She had only ever raised the idea in order to trick her husband into doing as she bid and had no real desire to hand over any of the decision making to him.

The crush was to be the first real function she had ever held for, excluding the few, piffling dinner parties she and Frank had overseen through the years, she had never before had the time or inclination to play the hostess. Now that she was married to Rhett, and by extension his bank balance, however, she felt far more enthusiastic about the prospect of holding a gathering so lavish it would put every other social event in the city to shame.

Already, she had the entire layout of the crush carefully constructed in her mind. Behind her eyelids shone gilded images of palms and orchestras and ballgowns worn by women so strewn with jewellery that their necks would shimmer like chandeliers every time they spun on their partner's arm. She planned to cover the porch in canvas and hold the drinks reception out there underneath the stars before, long after midnight when people's cravats and inhabitions would be well and truly loosened, they would all gather in the third floor ballroom to merrily dance away the hours until dawn.

Everything about the housewarming would be beautiful. Everything about the night would be perfect.

She wanted so badly to show her neighbours just how far she had risen in life, to prove once and for all that she was a great lady in her own right and that anything they had ever said to the contrary was nothing but a vicious lie.

She did not realise that she had begun to smile secretly to herself as she pictured the looks of shock and poorly concealed envy that would be sure to fill the female guests faces as they walked up the path to her beautiful house, jaws dropping with respect and amazement as they took in the decadent atmosphere and the impeccably dressed, indescribably glamorous woman at its centre.

'What are you thinking about, my pet?' Rhett wondered, dragging Scarlett out of her fantasy by stroking the back of his hand along the delicate skin of her cheek. 'I do believe it must be something truly devilish to make your eyes shine so brightly.'

Scarlett smiled in rueful acknowledgement and moved to pick up a muffin from the tray.

'Ah ah, no touching.' Rhett said, slapping her hand away before she could catch in one.

Squaring her shoulders, she tried again only to be similarly denied.

'I think it's fair to assume that the negotiations concerning who organises which parts of the _crush'_ -again with the put upon shudder-'will, in keeping with our traditional bartering methods, be vicious and criminally underhanded at best and so, my dear, in order to start the proceedings off as they mean to go on, I present to you my bargaining chip.'

His words made no sense to Scarlett and the grand gesture he made in sweeping his arm over the breakfast tray left her none the wiser either.

'Excuse me?'

'Bargaining chip, Mrs. Butler. It's really very simple. Say, for example, I wanted you to allow me to decorate the inside of the house as I see fit-'

'The entire inside of the house!' Scarlett spluttered, jumping forward and knocking her glass of apple juice all over herself in the process. 'Over my dead body!'

Ignoring her show of indignation, Rhett calmly reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief before trying to pat down her sodden nightdress. Alarmed by the feel of his hand so close to her chest, Scarlett hastily yanked it out of his grasp and roughly rubbed over the worst of the spill herself.

'Ah, but you see that's exactly where my bargaining chip comes in.' He said, effortlessly picking up the conversation as if the last two minutes hasn't happened. 'You see, if you agree to my terms then you'll be permitted to select anything you want from the tray, but, if you refuse, I'm afraid you'll have to go hungry.'

Unimpressed by his tactics, Scarlett challenged scathingly. 'And what is it to stop me from going downstairs and getting breakfast as normal?'

'Why, nothing, my pet. Only it would be a shame to waste the treats Mammy's made especially for you.'

'Mammy?' Scarlett repeated dumbly, wondering what on earth Rhett was on about. Mammy, for all her formidable talents, had never been one for cooking and Scarlett could scarce remember her ever having made breakfast before now.

'Yes,' said Rhett, lifting up a silver cloche from the far end of the tray and making Scarpett gasp as she realised what was underneath. 'We were talking and she mentioned that you used to be ever so fond of the pastries she made at Christmastime back when you were a girl. It took a shameful amount of cajolery on my part, but I eventually managed to persuade her to bake some for you this morning. I'm afraid the whole process has tired her out immensely though, I doubt she'll be willing to make another batch for weeks, possibly even months.'

Rhett's sly insinuations were not lost on Scarlett as she looked upon the pastries with adoring eyes. They had been her absolute favourites as a child growing up at Tara, one of the things that she had most looked forward to every Christmas. They were a perfect blend of sweet and savoury, so delicate that they melted on the tongue and Scarlett was positively desperate to taste one again. So desperate, in fact, that she was almost willing to play Rhett's game.

'What is it that you want?' She asked cautiously, drawing herself up on the bed in an attempt to look more intimidating.

'Nothing too outrageous.' He reassured her. 'I'm beginning to get an appreciation of just how much this party means to you and so I'm willing to let you plan it as you wish. My sole request is that you grant me the means to veto and amend anything that I think might end up doing your _crush_ more harm than good. I also want final approval of the guest list and I would prefer it if the food and drink were left to up me as well, but I'm willing to negotiate on that last point if needs be.'

Although Scarlett was reluctant to make any concessions while being so blatantly blackmailed, she had to admit that Rhett's requests weren't half as demanding as they could have been. Indeed, he was letting her organise almost everything apart from the food and drink and that had always been more his area of expertise than hers anyway. All in all, in was a much fairer deal than she had been expecting him to strike and it was this, along with a burning desire to taste Mammy's pastries once again, that made her agree far more quickly than she otherwise would have.

If something about Rhett's answering smirk raised her suspicions, then Scarlett soon forgot about it when he reached out and held a pastry up to her mouth. Closing her eyes, Scarlett took a bite, almost moaning out loud when a shower of sweet-tasting flakes rained down upon her tongue. The flavour instantly transported her back through the years until she was a child again at Tara, waiting impatiently at the dining table for Mammy to bring in the plate, her nails ready and waiting to scratch Suellen's arm if her sister dared to try and take the biggest pastry for herself.

The memory warmed her from the soles of her feet to the hairs on her head and she sighed happily as she relaxed back down against the headboard, opening her mouth in a silent demand for more.

She ate her way through two whole pastries this way, for once uncaring as to the negative effect it would have on her waistline as she eagerly swallowed down every last bite. It was only when she'd finished that she opened her eyes to discover the utter mess she'd made while eating, her neck and chest covered with so many crumbs that it almost looked as if she'd turned into a giant pastry herself.

Not wanting to get them on the bed, Scarlett made to stand up, Rhett's firm hand on her arm halting her swiftly in her tracks. Her forehead puckered in confusion as he bent his head towards her, a thrill of mortification rushing through her seconds later as she realised his intentions.

Sure enough, seemingly unconcerned by the time of day, Rhett bent down and slowly began to scoop up the crumbs with his lips and tongue, the first warm, wet touch making Scarlett freeze up on the bed and entirely forget how to move her limbs in order to escape.

She sat like a statue as he went about his business, moving over every inch of her skin with infinite care and consideration. Scarlett didn't even flinch when he moved down towards her breasts, his tongue stretching out to dig into the valley between them and root out even the most obstinate of flakes.

It was only when he moved to put the tray down on the floor that she finally came to her senses, blushing furiously at the realisation that it was the middle of the morning and that either the children or the servants could come barging into the room at any moment.

Not wanting to let Rhett touch her again for fear she would succumb to his wiles, Scarlett scrambled off the bed and was half way to her wardrobe before the tray had even touched the carpet.

'Scarlett?'

Ignoring the concern in his voice, Scarlett dived among her dresses and pulled out a formal one, deciding that it had been far too long since she'd last paid proper attention to her businesses and that she couldn't afford to let the foolishness they'd been engaging in since her husband's return keep her from them any longer.

'I just remembered I've got to check on the mills.' She explained rapidly, pulling on her corset and reemerging out into the bedroom so that Rhett could lace it for her. 'A new shipment came in yesterday and I've yet to check on it.'

'You're going to the mills?' Rhett asked, his confusion evaporating as something darker entered his tone.

'Yes.' Scarlett said, her tone defensive. 'I haven't been there in days and I need to make sure everything is still running properly. You know that Ashley sometimes makes mistakes on the order forms.'

If she had thought that acknowledging Ashley's flaws would help to appease Rhett then she was mistaken, as her husband's mood seemed only to blacken further at the mention of his name.

'Have you been to the store recently?' He asked, voice deceptively smooth in a way that told her he was dangerously close to losing his temper.

'Not since the day of Melly's dinner party.'

'Then don't you perhaps think it would be wiser to spend your time there today instead? After all, Mr. Wilkes and Mr. Gallagher are far more qualified to run the mills than those miscreants you call staff are to run your store.'

It was true that Scarlett did not credit her employees at the store with having much sense, but the fact that Rhett, having heard her complain about them many a time, was doubtless only bringing this point up now in order to manipulate her irritated her greatly.

She never told him how to run his businesses and she certainly didn't need him telling her how to run hers.

More determined than ever now to visit her mills, Scarlett fumed silently until Rhett had finished with her corset and she was able to move away and finish dressing.

'Scarlett?' He asked as she came back out of the wardrobe, heading over to the dressing table to run the brush through her hair and fix her hat so that it hid the worst of the tangles. 'Scarlett, where are you going?'

Throwing him a baleful look, she stated firmly. 'To the mills, Rhett. I already told you.'

'And I asked you not to.'

'I don't seem to remember much asking. More telling.'

From the corner of her eye, Scarlett saw his jaw jerk in mute recognition and a moment later he walked over and wrapped his arms around her middle, clearly having decided to try another tactic.

'Your right, my pet.' He murmured softly into the sensitive skin of her neck, his nose nuzzling into the sensitive spot behind her ear. 'I should have asked. So, will you? I promise to make it worth you while.'

Despite knowing better, Scarlett still felt her knees grow weak at his continued ministrations and the unspoken implication of his words, only managing to hold out when she realised he was still trying to get around her without actually having to ask.

Refusing to have her mind controlled by the desires of her body, Scarlett pulled out of his embrace and turned to face him head on. 'Will I what?'

Rhett lips twitched in what looked to Scarlett like a combination of admiration and exasperation as he stared her down. After a full minute of glaring at each other though, her husband finally surrendered. 'I don't want you going to the mills today. Will you please promise me that you'll stay away from there?'

'Why don't you want me to go?' She pushed, her hands moving to her hips.

Rhett frowned. 'That's none of your concern.'

'Then it's none of yours if I choose to visit the mills, is it?' She countered neatly, the thrill of going toe to toe with Rhett proving almost as addictive as his earlier kisses.

Rhett sighed heavily and looked as if he would argue further before finally throwing his hands up in the air. 'I booked us an early supper at the National. It was supposed to be a surprise. I'll need to pick you up from the store at half past four if we are to get there in time.'

If Rhett's eyes darted away from her face as he spoke, then Scarlett was too excited by the prospect of returning to the hotel where they'd spent so many happy, post-honeymoon days to notice. It was just like Rhett to make some foolish, grand gesture like this and Scarlett felt her irritation melt instantly away as she smiled up at her husband's face.

Not wanting to be seen to give in too easily though, she raised her eyebrow and asked saucily. 'Is that what you meant when you said you'd make it worth my while?'

She smiled vainly as her show of wit made Rhett throw his head back and laugh loudly. 'Not quite, Mrs. Butler.' He chuckled, drawing her back into his arms. 'Not quite.'

And, as Scarlett felt herself being softly enclosed within his embrace once again, she could not help but be strangely pleased by his answer.


	14. Chapter 14

_I hope that all of you who celebrate it had a lovely Christmas, and I look forward to seeing you all again in 2017 when this story should start winding up to its conclusion. Probably._

* * *

Rhett had not been speaking idly when he'd told Scarlett they would be hard pressed to make it to the restaurant on time. To be fair, it probably would have been a struggle even if he had managed to pick her up on schedule, which, of course, he hadn't.

Scarlett had been close to pulling her hair out when he'd finally strolled into the store just after quarter past five, smiling lazily as if nothing was amiss and he had all the time in the world with which to browse the shelves and flirt carelessly with the female customers.

It was all very well for him to squander time in such a manner, Scarlett had thought. After all, he wasn't the one who now had less than forty-five minutes to wash, dress and see to their hair and make up. In fact, while she'd been running herself ragged, hopping around the bedroom with one stocking on her foot and the other flailing in her hand as she desperately tried to recall where she'd left her lemon verbena scent, Rhett had had nothing more taxing to do that lounge around chatting to the children and smoking his way through the best part of two cigars.

It had been a monumental effort to get herself ready in time and the hasty preparations had been accompanied by a deafening symphony of slamming doors, stamping feet, and no less than seventeen heartfelt cries of 'Damn you, Rhett Butler- you told me you'd be there at half past four!'

Despite her best efforts, however, the clock had already struck six by the time they made it out of the front door. Rushing to climb into the carriage bound for the National, her corset laced too tightly and her hair slightly askew, any excitement that Scarlett might have been feeling at the prospect of enjoying a rare evening out had long since evaporated.

It didn't help matters that the hotel in question held such a special place in her heart. Their stay there after their honeymoon had been blissful and Scarlett had no desire to see such precious memories sullied by her present sourness.

Immune to Rhett's attempts to seduce her back into a good humour, Scarlett had stayed silent throughout their journey, and may well have remained that way the entire evening had their reception upon arrival not been quite so emphatic.

Like a Queen returning to her court after an extended absence, Scarlett was extremely flattered to find that all of the staff not only remembered her, but actively went out of their way to ensure that her every need and whim was expertly catered for.

It did not occur to her that Rhett's reputation as a frequent and extremely generous tipper had lingered long in the minds of the hotel's employees and had more than a little to do with all the extra attention the couple were getting, particularly the complimentary bottles of wine that had been sent over to their table upon arrival.

Instead, she assumed that their actions were a reflection of her own elevated status and so had sat through the entire meal with a large, slightly smug smile on her face, only too eager to take advantage of their unexpected kindnesses by filling both her plate and glass well beyond the point that most diners would have deemed excessive to the point of vulgarity.

By the time they brought out her dessert, -a beautiful pavolva, whiter than the first snow and filled with so much fruit it made her mouth water just to see it- Scarlett had already eaten far more food in a single sitting than she would normally have allowed to pass her lips in an entire day.

As a result of her gluttony, Scarlett's corset was beginning to pinch into her waist rather worryingly and, twice now, she'd had to excuse herself from the table in order to be spared the indignity of belching in public.

The wine had certainly done its fair share of the work too, adding a flush to her cheeks and a looseness to her speech, the latter of which she would surely regret just as soon as she managed to regain full control of her senses.

Rather than being offended by her extravagant behaviour, however, Rhett seemed rather charmed by the whole thing. They had been talking easily to one another all evening and Scarlett could scarcely remember a time when she'd seen him smile either as often or as fully.

Things were going so well, in fact, that they had even managed to discuss her plans for the upcoming crush without coming to blows. At first, Scarlett had been reluctant to raise the subject, convinced that Rhett would only sneer at her ideas before quickly dismissing them out of hand.

So sure had she been that he would mock her for her desire to hire a full piece orchestra to serenade the dancing couples before pouring scorn upon her wish to drape the entire length of the veranda in a deep-red, velvet canvas during the drinks reception, that, without his express encouragement, she would never have dared to voice either suggestion.

As it was, though, Rhett had ended up surprising her greatly by nodding along solemnly at her every word, even going so far as to murmur quiet words of encouragement whenever she fell silent.

All in all, it had been a truly wonderful evening, Scarlett would even have been tempted to call it perfect, had not the waiter chosen that exact moment to present Rhett with his chosen dessert. A deep, rich, chocolate gateaux with a generous side helping of cream, it looked divine, and like a spoilt child whose sibling has just been presented with a fancier present, it suddenly made Scarlett look upon her own measly pavlova with poorly concealed disdain.

No sooner had the expression flitted across her face, however, than her husband stepped in to help remove it.

'I'm afraid this isn't mine.' He informed the waiter, his face so earnest that, had Scarlett not heard him order it with her own ears five minutes previously, she too would surely have believed him.

'My profuse apologies, Sir. There must have been a misunderstanding in the kitchens. What was it that you ordered?'

'I chose the pavlova and my wife the gateaux.'

The unexpected lie caused Scarlett to let out a most unladylike sound and, mortified, she quickly feigned a cough in order to disguise her faux pas.

Sometimes Rhett really could be the most darling thing, she thought, preening happily in her seat. She knew full well he didn't even like pavlova, and, yet, here he was, willing to sacrifice his dessert so that she might enjoy it instead.

Touched by his gesture, Scarlett moved her foot so that it reclined affectionately against his. Eyes already fixed upon her newly acquired gateaux, Scarlett missed the surprised smile Rhett threw her way, but felt the answering pressure of his shoe against hers, and the intimate brush of his trousers against her stocking, only too keenly.

All day, thoughts of his body had made it impossible for her to concentrate properly on her work, her mind choosing the most inconvenient moments imaginable to wander off and relive the events of the previous two nights.

For a woman who had always prided herself on her total dedication to her businesses, it had been beyond frustrating to find her attentions straying in this way, especially when, late this afternoon, her daydreaming had almost led to her grossly undercharging a customer.

The thought that she had come perilously close to handing over her hard-earned money to an undeserving stranger was truly sickening to Scarlett and the incident had stuck in her throat like tar right up until the moment Rhett, Panama hat held suavely in hand, had finally shown up to take her home.

Despite the fact she now got to enjoy the security of Rhett's seemingly inexhaustible bank account, Scarlett was only too aware of how quickly her sudden fortune could be stripped from her, and her slip up, however minor, had served to remind her just how devilishly hard a thing money was to hold on to.

The echoes of the past still rang loudly in her ears and she feared that, even if she were to live to be a hundred, she would never again forget the clawing hollowness that had echoed through her insides each and every night she'd been forced to go to bed on an empty stomach.

It was partly the thought of such starvation that had caused her to indulge herself so thoroughly during their meal and, even now, well-fed and full to bursting as she was, the mere rememberance of her long-distant suffering was enough to make her dig her fork into her dessert with renewed energy.

Forgetting to worry about her table manners, Scarlett dedicated herself to the task of fitting as much of the gateaux into her mouth as was humanly possible, finding that even Rhett's mocking gaze was not enough to deter her from her mission.

'Take time, my pet.' He cautioned lightly as he watched her gorge herself on the treat. 'It's not a race. The restaurant is unlikely to throw us out for eating too slowly, whereas I fear that one look at your chocolate-smeared visage will see us swiftly ejected for crimes against public decency.'

Jerking the napkin up to wipe her face, Scarlett frowned darkly when it came away spotlessly clean. 'There's no chocolate on my face, Rhett.'

'So there isn't. I must congratulate you, my dear, I do believe you've managed to cram every last crumb into your mouth, after all.'

Her answering glare only made him laugh harder and Scarlett was considering refusing to speak to him for the rest of the night as punishment for his ungallant behaviour when he shocked her by placing his uneaten pavlova on top of her now empty dessert dish.

'I'm afraid I haven't left enough room for this course. Would you be so kind as to finish it for me?'

Tantrum neatly averted by the prospect of extra food, Scarlett smiled graciously at her husband and eagerly dived in, making sure to cut the dessert into smaller, daintier portions this time in order to avoid more of his teasing.

Across the table from her, Scarlett watched as Rhett lent back in his chair and took a long sip from his wine glass, the powerful muscles in his throat dancing hypnotically each time he swallowed. Caught up by the unconscious display of his underlying masculinity, she jumped guiltily when he turned back from gazing languidly around the room to fix his eyes upon her.

'Have you given much thought to who it is you want at your crush, Scarlett?'

Mouth still full of meringue, she could only nod her head.

'Yes.' She said after she'd finally swallowed it all down, only to embarrass herself by choking on a stray crumb and having to swiftly chase it down with the last of her wine.

Noting the now empty bottle, Rhett signalled for the waiter to bring over another and Scarlett wasted no time in refilling her glass, deciding that, after having indulged herself so indecently all evening, there was precious little sense in practicing caution now.

'I want to invite everyone.' She said once she was certain she'd be able to speak without setting off another coughing fit. 'Melly and Ashley. Pittypat and Uncle Henry. All the Old Cat's who've ever said anything mean about me. Rufus Bullock-'

'Rufus Bullock?' Rhett interrupted, raising an eyebrow in evident amusement. 'The Republican governor?'

'Yes, him. Why, do you know another Rufus Bullock?'

Ignoring her jibe, Rhett quickly countered with one of his own. 'Forgive me, I would not have queried it, except for the fact that I thought you to be the very model of a staunch, unwavering Democrat. Unless my memory fails me, my dear, I seem to remember you professing as much rather heatedly one morning before my trip to New Orleans.'

The coarse reference to their fight and Rhett's subsequent departure incensed Scarlett greatly. Since his return, they had both been careful to avoid the issue as much as possible, alluding to it only with vague words and horseshoe shaped gifts, and the direct reference to it now only served to remind her that she had been unable to truly humble him in the aftermath of their fight, a revelation that stung her more than she liked to admit.

Sending him what she'd intended to be a piercing glare, but which the copious amounts of alcohol in her bloodstream helped to soften into nothing more cutting than a slightly fuzzy stare, Scarlett's voice was cold and clipped when she replied. 'Your memory is certainly failing you if you're surprised I want him there, Rhett. I told you that I want this crush to be the most stylish party Atlanta has ever seen and obviously that means inviting Mr. Bullock to be part of it.'

Pressing the pads of his fingers to his chin, Rhett nodded thoughtfully for a moment before continuing in a more measured, conspiratorial tone. 'You do realise that none of the Old Guard will ever agree to attend the same function as your dear friend Rufus, don't you?'

Jerking her head in dismissal, Scarlett airily brushed off his concerns. 'Why, of course they will. My party has nothing to do with politics. Whatever people may think of Mr. Bullock as a governor, and Lord knows I'm none too keen on him myself in that respect, they won't object to him coming to my crush. In fact, his being there will help remind people what a special and important event our housewarming really is.'

'As much as I've always been rather partial to your own, shall we say _unique_ worldview, my dear, I'm afraid that this is one occasion where I really must disagree with it. Politics always matters, my pet, especially to the people of Atlanta. You've lived in this town long enough, Scarlett, you've seen how they were during the war, how they never truly surrendered after it. These people are fighters, they'll never accept Republican rule. Not in Washington, not in their state government and certainly not in their homes. Not one single member of the Old Guard will ever consent to set so much as a foot in the same building as that man and if you hear nothing else that I say tonight, then at least hear this: if you want the Old Cats to grow sick with envy as they walk around your beloved house, then you would do well to leave Mr. Bullock off the guest list.'

Her mind clouded by the wine, most of Rhett's speech passed straight over Scarlett's head. The parts that she did catch though only convinced her that he was blowing the situation up out of all proportion. Really, as if any of her neighbours would ever refuse to come to her party just because Rufus Bullock happened to be there! Why, they'd all be so flattered just to receive an invitation that they wouldn't even care if Abe Lincoln himself was planning to attend.

The thought of quarrelling with Rhett, and bringing their evening to a hasty and unpleasant end, didn't sit right with Scarlett, though, and she thought it best to forego her usual biting counter arguments in favour of a simple shake of the head.

'You haven't listened to a single word I've said, have you?' Rhett accused, but through the fog of her drowsy, wine-soaked mind, the words sounded fondly amused rather than accusatory and Scarlett only smiled sleepily and polished off the last of the pavlova by way of a reply.

Rhett chuckled. 'I think someone's ready for bed, my pet. You stay here and I'll go and see to the bill.'

'Alright.' She said magnanimously, sighing forlornly to herself when she realised Rhett had already left the table in search of the maitre d'.

Picking up her napkin, she patted it along her bottom lip a few times before twisting it absentmindedly in her hands while she waited for him to return.

She hoped he wouldn't be too long for her corset really was beginning to dig into her sides most uncomfortably, the two desserts no doubt having conspired to push her normally tiny waist out wider than it had been since before Ella was born.

Twisting in her seat, Scarlett managed to catch a glimpse of Rhett as he turned the corner, the outline of his broad back encased beneath the most expensive, exquisitely-tailored of dinner jackets causing her thoughts to drift back towards dangerous ground once again.

In a bid to distract herself, Scarlett turned her attentions to her fellow diners. Try as she might though, she could not seem to stop the elicit thoughts from popping up and soon found herself wondering if the young woman at the table next to hers, whose blond hair bobbed annoyingly every time she nodded at something her older, slightly overweight husband said, had ever felt the kind of tremors she herself had just the night before.

It was a terrible, scandalous thought, and yet the answer to her question suddenly seemed very important to her tired, tipsy mind. Studying them both curiously, she couldn't quite imagine it. The man stared unrelentingly into the middle distance as he spoke, as if the sound of his own voice was far more interesting than watching his wife's reaction to his words.

Studying them closely, Scarlett felt herself flush at the thought of how Rhett's eyes always sought out hers whenever he talked. Black and piercing, they seemed to burn into her so intensely that often she felt as if he was trying to communicate with her very soul.

The thought of it made her vision swim a little, almost as if she was being pulled away from the restaurant back into the heated darkness of her bedroom. Now, when the blond woman smiled, Scarlett saw her own mouth falling open in ecstasy. When the woman's husband laughed, Scarlett heard only Rhett's low groaning in her ear. And when the man picked up a forkful of steak, Scarlett felt Rhett's tongue drawing invisible patterns across her chest and throat as his lips hungrily sought out stray pasty crumbs.

She was losing her mind. There was no other possible explanation for her irrational, obsessive behaviour. And yet, rather than worrying about the need to consult a doctor and get her affliction seen to, Scarlett found herself wondering if the National made its own pastries and, if so, whether they'd be willing to let her and Rhett take some home with them.

Before she had a chance to dwell on the idea any further, Rhett suddenly appeared by her side, his arms extended to help her to stand up from her seat.

'Thank you.' She said, her legs wobbling slightly as she struggled to gained her balance.

'You're welcome, my dear.' He replied, gracefully managing to ignore her unsteadiness while, at the same time, laying a firm hand across her back to guide her safely through the restaurant and out into the street.

While she successfully managed to navigate the sea of tables and chairs without incident, the chill of the night air almost proved to be Scarlett's undoing. It assaulted her like a physical blow and sent her stumbling backwards in shock the moment they passed through the doors. She would surely have fallen to the floor in an slovenly heap had Rhett not been standing so close behind her, his chest proving itself a far more welcome resting place than the pavement below.

'Careful there.' He said, wrapping an arm around her waist as he steadied her. 'I fear the wine may have gone to your head a little.'

Now that Rhett mentioned it, she did feel a bit light-headed. She didn't want to admit as much, though. No doubt, he would only criticise her for having drunk too much and she was having far too pleasant a time to ruin it all with an argument in which he would be certain to use a lot of big words and cutting remarks to ensure he emerged the victor.

Biting her tongue, Scarlett yanked herself roughly out of Rhett's hold and started off up the street towards home, instead.

'And just where do you think you're going?' A deep, laughing voice asked as warm arms rewrapped themselves around her middle.

'Back to the house.' Scarlett said, drawing herself up haughtily and slapping his hands away. 'We've been gone for hours and the children will be worried. You know they don't sleep well when we're not there.'

'As touched as I am by your display of maternal affection, my pet, do you not think it would perhaps serve your purposes better if you were to walk in the actual direction of our house?'

Blinking rapidly, Scarlett flushed as she realised she had indeed been heading the entirely wrong way. 'Oh.'

' _Oh_ , indeed, Mrs. Butler.' Rhett chuckled.

Not wanting to give him a chance to gloat over her mistake, Scarlett spun on her heels and began to march off in the opposite direction, crying out when she felt Rhett grab hold of her for a third time.

'Not so fast, Scarlett. As sorely tempted as I am to watch you endeavour to walk home in your current condition, I do think it would be unfair of me to have called Pork out of the house for nothing.'

'Pork?' Scarlett questioned, trying unsuccessfully to extract herself from his firm hold.

'Yes. I arranged for him to meet us here with the carriage at eleven. It's just gone quarter to now, so we shouldn't have long to wait. It's colder out here than I was expecting though, and as you seem to have forgotten to bring your shawl, I think it might be best if you waited inside until he arrives.'

'If I forgot my shawl, it's only because I had no time to get ready.' Scarlett cried indignantly. 'And I'm not a child, Rhett. I think I can manage to stand outside for ten minutes without wasting away!'

Laughing lightly at her flare of temper, Rhett only shrugged and held her tightly with one arm.

'Get off me.' She muttered irritably as she tried unsuccessfully to squirm out of his grip. 'What are you doing?'

The answer to her question became clear a moment later when he used his other hand to wrap his long coat around her front, cocooning them both in the small, warm space that lay between the two folds.

'You know, this would work far better if you turned towards me.' Rhett said, his mouth pressed up tightly against her ear.

Scarlett huffed loudly and stayed where she was, it was bad enough that she was standing so close to her husband in public, without making the situation even more shocking by moving so that they were face to face.

Rhett's voice dropped lower. 'That way you could put your arms around me, too.'

Scarlett froze, noticing that Rhett's normal, teasing tone was undercut with something far more yearning and elicit.

It was one thing to enjoy remembering the things they had done together inside the privacy of her own mind, but quite another to allude to them in a public setting.

His words helped jolt her out of the stupor the wine had put her under and, realising what she was doing, she gathered up her strength and hastily flung herself out of his embrace.

'Scarlett?'

'Stay away from me, Rhett.' She said, trying to stop her teeth from chattering as she realised just how cold it was without the protection of his warm body to shield her from the night air.

'Scarlett, come back here. You're freezing.' He cajoled, holding the sides of his coat out and creating the most tempting space against his body that she instantly longed to melt back in to.

'No, I'm not.' She said stubbornly, fighting against the urge to rub her hands up and down the length of her bare arms.

'I'm not blind, my pet. I can see you shivering from here.'

'No, you can't.' She maintained, turning her head away in the childish assumption that, if she could not see him, he would not be able to see her, either.

The sound of deep laughter filled the space between them and made the hairs on her frozen arms stand up. 'You really are the most obstinate woman in all of creation, aren't you?'

Scarlett kept her eyes fixed on the deserted road even as a loud rustling noise filled her ears. 'Here, have it.' Rhett said, stepping closer to lay his coat over her thin, shaking shoulders. 'I can't have you turning to ice, now can I? Mammy would never let me back in the house, if I let her most precious charge come to harm.'

Warmed by both the coat and Rhett's allusion to Mammy's great love for her, Scarlett's scowl melted into a smile as she turned back towards her husband.

'Now you're cold.' She said, frowning as she glimpsed his pale face.

Her rare show of concern made Rhett's eyes leap up to her face almost hungrily, and Scarlett was about to ask him what it was he seemed to be searching for there, when her attention was stolen by the sight of Pork and the carriage turning onto the deserted street.

As Pork pulled the horse to a stop outside the hotel, and Rhett took her hand to help her climb into the carriage, a spark of much-welcome heat passed between them. Unable to suppress the shiver it generated, Scarlett blushed as Rhett paused to eye her speculatively before turning away to speak to Pork.

Taking her seat, Scarlett snuggled back against the plush material of the carriage and wrapped Rhett's coat around her more securely as she tried unsuccessfully to ignore the way that being so thoroughly surrounded by the smell of her husband was starting to do strange things to her lower stomach.

Peeking through closed lashes, Scarlett watched as Rhett swung himself up into the carriage after her, enjoying the way his thigh muscles rippled and strained as he sprawled out casually in the seat directly across from her's. Hair falling rakishly across one eye, he took the time to light a cigarette before he spoke. 'Did you enjoy your evening out, Scarlett?'

Finding herself oddly tongue-tied under the weight of his gaze, Scarlett could only nod.

The evening had indeed been a lovely one, and she squirmed pleasurably as a small, tentative voice whispered that hopefully the coming night would prove itself to be even sweeter still.


	15. Chapter 15

_It should probably worry me how easy I found it to write what's essentially 5000+ words of pwp, but I'm too grateful to see the back of my latest bout of writer's block to get overly concerned! Hope you enjoy_.

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Given the fact that Scarlett had spent the majority of the carriage ride home imagining the many different ways in which Rhett was likely to try and kiss her once they got in through the door, she was more than a touch disappointed when, mere seconds after entering the hallway, he abandoned her in favour of helping Pork stable the horses.

'That mare's been acting up something fierce these last few weeks and Pork's not the spry young buck he was in your father's day.' He'd said by way of an explanation, pausing only long enough to take his coat off her shoulders before making his way back out into the night.

Watching him leave, Scarlett wasn't sure whether he wanted her to wait for him to come back or make her own, solitary way up to bed. It did seem rather silly to remain standing here alone so late at night, the downstair's lights all long since extinguished and with only the silvery shadow of the moon to illuminate the empty hallway.

Worse still, Rhett was bound to read something suggestive into it if she were to stand here and wait for him to return. And yet, she reasoned, wasn't that exactly what she'd been wanting ever since they'd left the restaurant? For Rhett to read her desire and find a way to satisfy it?

Flashes of her earlier fantasies flitted behind her lids as her eyes slipped slowly shut, images of slow, close-mouthed kisses and sweet looks soon giving way to lurid thoughts of him pinning her up passionately against the door frame as their world dissolved into nothing but hands that stroked and grabbed and tongues that duelled and danced together in the darkness.

In that moment, she wanted his kisses more than anything. More than a soft bed upon which to lie her tired body or a glass of warm milk to settle her overfilled stomach. They even meant more to her than her own dignity, for she knew that was precisely what she'd be relinquishing if she were to wait for him any longer.

If he returned to find her here, then he would know that she desired him. He would know, and all the power would be his.

Long minutes passed as she deliberated what to do, her heart pulling her one way and her head -though weakened by the wine- still trying valiantly to lead her the other.

In the end though, the choice was taken out of her hands, the door handle twisting open while she still stood hesitating in the hallway.

The look of surprise on Rhett's face when he spotted her would have been comical had Scarlett not been feeling too anxious to fully enjoy it. Stopping dead half way through the act of taking off his coat, he stared at her blankly for a few seconds before his shocked expression slowly morphed into one of concern.

'Scarlett? Are you alright?'

Clearing a throat which suddenly felt much too tight, Scarlett managed to nod.

'Good, I'm glad. Although, I wouldn't have been surprised if you were feeling a tad nauseous after all those puddings you consumed.' He teased, eyes shining brightly in the gloom. 'I suppose trifling ailments like stomach aches are for weaker women, though. You, my pet, appear to be made of far sterner stuff.'

Only half listening to his words, Scarlett found herself growing annoyed as she stood awkwardly before Rhett and wondered petulantly when exactly he planned to get around to kissing her.

Rather than stepping towards her, however, Rhett only moved away further when he went to hang up his coat.

'You'd better be getting off to bed before you catch a chill, my dear. I have some urgent business that I need to see to before I retire, so I doubt I'll be up until long after you've fallen asleep.'

Frowning at his words, Scarlett almost didn't notice when Rhett moved forward to plant a chaste kiss upon her forehead.

'Goodnight, Scarlett.' He murmured softly against her skin as he pulled away, his warm breath ghosting gently across her face.

Wrong-footed by the unexpected turn of events, Scarlett could only stand there silently and watch as he turned away towards his study door, the piffling little kiss he'd bestowed upon her seeming to cruelly mock the fervour of the ones she'd so enjoyed picturing earlier.

It didn't sit right with her that Rhett could so easily abandon her in favour of his work, as if a bunch of lifeless numbers and figures were somehow more worthy of his attention than she was.

Blindly, she groped around for something to make him come back, the memory of how he had wrapped her up in his arms when she'd stumbled coming up the front path entering her head and appearing to offer the perfect solution.

Looking up, she saw to her dismay that he had almost reached the study door, and with no time to think up a better plan, Scarlett quickly feigned another stumble, her panic making her cry out a little too loudly as she bent her knee awkwardly and pretended to trip.

'Scarlett!' Rhett called, hurrying back towards her as she righted herself, his face pale in a way that helped ease Scarlett's wounded vanity and forced her to bite her lip to prevent a smile of triumph from forming.

'It's nothing.' She said, drawing upon the scant acting talent she possessed to deliver a winning performance of a woman too self-sacrificing and noble to admit she needed help. 'I just placed my foot down at an odd angle, that's all. I'm sure I'll be fine to walk all the way up the stairs to bed on my own, Rhett. You go back to your work, don't worry about me.'

She feared that she may have been laying it on a little too thickly with that last line, but, by some lucky miracle, Rhett failed to see through her charade, too busy kneeling down to inspect the non-existant damage to pay heed to the telling catch in her tone.

Tenderly, he lifted her foot onto his thighs, unlacing her shoe before slipping it off and carefully taking her ankle between his warm palms. Slowly, he rotated the joint one way and then the other, watching her closely the entire time.

The sight of Rhett, so powerful and strong, looking up at her softly from down on his knees did curious, disconcerting things to Scarlett's stomach, and too late did she realise that he was actually checking to see if her ankle was hurting her.

Trying to salvage the situation, she hissed as if in pain and jerked her foot sharply in his hands.

'Is it hurting you badly?' He asked, eyes fixed upon her face in a way that made Scarlett's breath catch.

'Not too badly.'

'Do you think you can walk on it?'

Inside Scarlett's head, his innocent question set off an avalanche as she warred against the practicalities of continuing her act and bravely saying no, and the fear that Rhett would take her at her word and disappear back into that dreadful study of his for the rest of the night.

Thankfully, Rhett seemed to think her continued silence was an answer in and of itself, causing him to gently place her foot back down on the floor as he rose to stand.

'I know you detest asking for help, my dear, but I do believe this is one occasion where it can't be avoided.' He said, smiling down at her as he extended his arms and bent to pick her up.

Surprised by his caring, lover-like response to her apparent injury, Scarlett could only stand and stare at him like a simpleton as he gestured for her to hoist herself up into his embrace.

Misreading her stillness for reluctance, Rhett teased her lightly. 'Come, Scarlett. Put your arms around my neck, I promise that no matter how fiercely Mammy may interrogate me, I'll go to my grave insisting you climbed the stairs alone and entirely unaided.'

The joke served to pull Scarlett out of her daze and, quickly, she leapt into his arms, nervousness overtaking her at the thought that, now the first part of her plan was successfully completed, she would have to come up with an even riskier proposition to keep him inside their bedroom once they reached it.

Thinking hard, Scarlett absentmindedly lay her head down against the reassuring solidness of Rhett's chest as he began to ascend the stairs.

She kept it cushioned there as they made their way up, closing her eyes as the gentle sway of his steps began to lull her into a peaceful, wine-induced slumber.

No doubt, she would have fallen asleep completely, had Rhett not jostled her slightly a few minutes later. Opening her eyes, she was shocked to find that she was now laying on her own bed, Rhett's face bearing down at her from above as he coaxed her to roll over onto her stomach so that he could go about unfastening her dress.

The undoing of her corset, when it finally came, was enough to make Scarlett groan out loud in relief. The removal of its constricting embrace, which had been paining her greatly for most of the evening, making her feel as though she was able to take her first proper breath after many, long hours of near suffocation.

After pulling her dress and corset off and removing her stockings and one remaining shoe, Rhett stepped back, leaving Scarlett laying upon the sheets in only her thin chemise.

Rolling languidly over onto her back, Scarlett smiled inwardly at the way Rhett's eyes seemed to follow her every movement almost hungrily. Emboldened by his expression, she sought to prolong the moment by sensually stretching out every muscle as she turned, arching her back and fluttering her lashes like a cat lolling about in the sunshine.

She did not know where her newfound confidence had sprung from -although part of her wondered if the large quantities of alcohol still swimming through her veins weren't at least partially responsible- but what she did know was that she definitely liked the way it made her feel.

Looking up at Rhett's loose jaw and wide eyes, Scarlett realised she'd been wrong to think that, by admitting her desire, she would by handing all the power in their relationship over to her husband. If anything, acknowledging her needs had only made her feel stronger, as if she was finally free to act on her impulses without having to wait for Rhett to instigate things first.

It was a heady, addictive sensation and Scarlett half-suspected that, given time, she would come to crave it almost as badly as she did Rhett's kisses.

The thought of kissing reminded her that she had yet to feel the brush of her husband's lips against hers since returning home, a glaring oversight that she was all too ready to correct.

Before she could reach up and pull him towards her, however, Rhett surprised her by stepping back from the bed, a look of deep conflict playing itself out across his swarthy face.

'I should let you rest, my pet.' He said hoarsely, hands curling themselves into tense fists by his sides. 'You've had a long day and I have a lot of work that I really do need to see to before I turn in for the night.'

Confused and disappointed by his retreat, Scarlett watched Rhett walk away with hurt eyes before a sudden madness swept through her and she found herself scrambling down towards the foot of the bed after him.

'Wait, Rhett.' She gasped, shivering with both nerves and cold as she came to kneel at the bottom of the mattress, her heart pounding in her chest as she raised uncertain eyes to stare directly into the bemused, but expectant, face of her husband.

She did not know what she was doing. No one had ever told her how a lady was supposed to act in such a situation, how she was supposed to go about seducing a man without making him either laugh or grow disgusted at her.

She had no idea what she was supposed to say, if there was a specific set of words that all refined women were taught to use when they found themselves in this position. She wished that someone had told her, had pulled her aside one day in between dance lessons and talks of etiquette to tutor her on lessons in the art of love-making.

Surely, it wasn't fair to let a girl go to her marriage bed without having first schooled her on the matter? Cruel to teach her how to endure unpleasant sensations without also telling her how to ask for the reverse.

Seeing as no one had ever taken the time to help educate her on such things, she knew that, once again, she would have no choice but to rely entirely on herself. Her instincts were the only things likely to get her through this ordeal intact and right now they were screaming at her not to let Rhett leave.

Desperate to have him stay, she opened her mouth and blurted out the first thing that came into her overwrought mind, coarse and scandalous as it was.

'Take it off.'

The words were out of her mouth before she even had time to think, her lips and tongue forming sounds seemingly without either her consent or awareness.

Standing before her, Rhett looked every bit as shocked by her outburst as she herself felt, his eyebrows disappearing up into his hairline as he stared at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

'Scarlett?'

'Your waistcoat. Take it off.'

She expected him to protest, to taunt her for her forward display, or, perhaps, to simply sneer and walk out of the room in disgust. Her words must have sounded so laughable to a man of his experience, and the very last thing she expected was for him to raise shaking hands to his waistcoat and, fumbling slightly, begin to undo the buttons.

Watching him through unbelieving eyes, Scarlett hardly dared breath as he unfastened the last button and slipped it from his shoulders.

The sound of the fabric hitting the floor echoed deafeningly around the silent room, both figures freezing up as if suddenly transformed into stone.

'Your cravat.' Scarlett croaked, her voice catching as she felt a tremor of excitement pump through her veins, electrifying her entire body until she almost seemed to vibrate with energy.

There was something so decadent and forbidden about ordering a man as pyscically and mentally imposing as Rhett to carry out her bidding, almost as if he were her servant rather than her spouse. It did terrible, glorious things to her lower regions and made her feel as if her legs were going to collapse out from under her at any moment.

Her sense of incredulity only intensified when Rhett wordlessly obliged, pulling roughly at his cravat until it fell open to expose the tanned expanse of his throat.

Swallowing thickly, she whispered her next command, certain that this would be the one to break the spell and return Rhett to his rightful self. 'Your shirt.'

Instead of balking at her request, however, Rhett's eyes only darkened further, the blackness becoming all consuming as he reached up and silently began to take off his shirt.

Inch by inch, his chest was slowly revealed to her, Scarlett's fingers itching to reach out and touch as she fixed her gaze upon the dark hairs that covered his torso and paved a tantalising trail down to the top of his trousers.

She panicked slightly as the shirt joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the bedroom floor, wondering how she was ever supposed to pluck up the courage to demand that he continue undressing.

For several, fruitless seconds, she tried and failed to make the words come out, cursing her own inhibitions that prevented her from speaking and instead forced her to reach out and tap the buckle of his belt before swiftly retracting her hand as though scalded.

Thankfully, Rhett seemed to read her wordless request well enough, the veins in his forearms straining attractively as he pulled his belt loose and allowed the trousers to fall down around his ankles.

Freed from its concealment, the bulge in Rhett's pants stood out glaringly beneath his underwear, the startling, obscene sight of it making Scarlett unable to tear her eyes away.

Nodding her head, eyes still pointing downwards, Scarlett's stomach clenched painfully as Rhett slowly slid his hands beneath the fabric of his underwear and gradually pulled it down to reveal himself fully to her.

In all the months that they had been married, never before had she seen him as clearly as this. Before now, the very thought of his naked flesh had unsettled and disturbed her and she's always taken care to keep her eyes firmly closed and her face carefully averted whenever things took an intimate turn.

Now though, she could not have looked away even if she'd wanted to. After years of living with men without ever really knowing them, it was a heady, intoxicating thing to be able to stare so openly, to study her husband as he stood so bare and brazen before her.

She had been wrong to think the sight would appall her. It was disconcerting, yes, but there was also a kind of masculine grace in Rhett's naked body, a bluntness and a beauty in its every plain and muscle that shocked and mesmerised her in equal measure.

Her cheeks heating as she took him in, Scarlett felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and draw him to her, to be surrounded and protected by a frame as large and capable as his, a frame that could shelter her from the rest of the world and create a space big enough for only two to fit snugly inside.

Before she could though, Rhett's utter stillness suddenly dissolved in a flash of movement, his whole body surging forward as he cradled her in his arms and eagerly crushed his lips to hers.

Startled by the action, Scarlett fell clumsily back upon the bed, Rhett's form pushing her down against the mattress as he plundered her mouth like a starving man in search of vital sustenance.

It felt wonderful to have him kiss her at last, to feel their lips touch and tongues collide just as she'd been wishing they would since first exiting the National. Rhett was far too skillful a lover for Scarlett to be able to keep her wits about her while being subjected to his kisses like this, and before she knew it, Rhett's thighs were parting hers, the solid, scorching weight of him pressing up against her entrance before smoothly pushing inside.

Scarlett moaned into Rhett's mouth as he began to move above her, his strokes confident and firm as his hands came up to twine with her own.

As overwhelming as his ministrations undoubtedly were, however, Scarlett could not help but feel oddly regretful that her brief moment of empowerment had ended so soon.

Unladylike as it was, she had deeply enjoyed being the one to control and choreograph their marital relations for a change, the elicit nature of the act appealing greatly to her naturally domineering spirit. It had been exciting and surprisingly wonderful to feel as if Rhett was at her mercy, his body hers to do with as she liked, if only for a few, shining moments.

All her life, the things that took place between married couples in darkened bedrooms had been entirely decided for her by her three husbands. Each had come to her whenever they so desired, positioned her as they saw fit and then proceeded to use her body exactly as they pleased.

None had ever been deliberately rough or cruel to her. Rhett, in particular, had always taken care to make her as comfortable as he possibly could. Yet, still she could not rightly say that any of their actions had been entirely her choosing. She had not resisted, indeed, lately, it could be said that she had come to comply rather enthusiastically, and yet, never before had she had the chance to actually initiate things, to speak out and demand that her bodily cravings be satisfied on her own terms.

She had liked the feeling of taking charge more than she could rightly say and part of her felt slightly resentful at having her newfound authority stripped from her before she had properly learnt how to use it.

She supposed that some of her thoughts must have shone through in her actions, her hips rising and falling shallowly and with none of the passion she had shown in their previous two couplings. Charles or Frank would never have noticed her lack of involvement, but Rhett had always had an uncanny habit of reading her inner thoughts and, barely two minutes after throwing her down upon the bed, Scarlett felt his hips slow to a standstill as he pulled back to stare down at her in concern.

'Scarlett?'

Unable and unwilling to put her thoughts into words, Scarlett tried unsuccessfully to bring him back into another kiss.

'Scarlett, what is it? Am I hurting you?' He asked solemnly, his breath laboured as he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head up until their eyes met.

Shaking her head in answer, Scarlett flushed at the thought of trying to explain her current predicament to her husband. As liberal and forward-thinking as Rhett was, Scarlett imagined that even he would be sure to balk at the idea of handing over the control in as important a matter as this.

After all, it was one thing to want a wife who enjoyed marital relations, but quite another to have one who wanted to lead them altogether.

Not that she always wanted to be the one in charge, of course. Having Rhett manipulate and use her body to take them both to previously undreamt of heights was far too delicious to ever give up on completely, but, for tonight at least, she wished that she could be the one to set the pace. The one to make him gasp and jerk and cry out as a result of her actions rather than the other way around.

She had wanted him so badly these last few days, had been able to think of little else in the forty-eight hours since this madness started, and she needed some slim assurance that he felt the same, that he yearned for her as desperately as she did for him.

Her thoughts must have reflected clearly in her eyes, for, after studying them closely for a few moments, Rhett broke out into a devious smirk as he stared down at her appraisingly.

Squeezing their joined hands, he bent down until his mouth slid against the sensitive skin of her earlobe and whispered provocatively, 'Why, Scarlett, forgive me for being so rude as to cut in without permission.'

Shivering as the warm waves of his breath lapped enticingly against her ear, Scarlett closed her eyes and cried out when her world suddenly flipped upon its head.

Blinking furiously, Scarlett froze in dismay when she realised Rhett had rolled over into his back, pulling her up to lay on top of him. With strong, sure hands he moved her to sit up above him, her eyes fluttering and her mouth falling open as the new position caused him to slip further inside. Scarlett had never felt anything quite like it, the way Rhett was able to move deeper within her, brushing up against places that had never been touched before was almost overwhelming in its sudden intensity.

Her legs moving to straddle her husband's hips, Scarlett longed to move against him, to mimic his earlier, grinding movements and see exactly how this new angle would affect her appreciation of the act.

She would have, too, if only she didn't feel so terribly, shamefully exposed by her unexpected position. Sitting straight up over Rhett's prone body, everything from Scarlett's face down to the curve of her bent knees was entirely on display. This new space between them afforded Rhett the opportunity to look at her more extensively than ever before and Scarlett's cheeks burned crimson at the idea of being seen so clearly by the very man she wished to hide from most.

Heart palpitating wildly in her breast, and mere seconds away from clambering off the bed and locking herself in the wardrobe never to come back out, Scarlett jolted as she felt Rhett's palm come up to cup her cheek.

'Aren't you curious to know how it feels to be the one calling the shots, my pet?' He murmured, his voice so soft the words seemed to float weightlessly in the air between their two bodies. 'If you want to lead this dance, then, by all means, go right ahead. For once, my dear Mrs. Butler, I find myself only too happy to follow.'

Daring to sneak a glance down at his face, Scarlett was surprised to find that his eyes were free from both teasing and scorn, their black depths filled only with desire and a small, bright flame that seemed perilously close to breaking free and consuming the entire room with the intensity of its blaze.

Something about the look gave Scarlett courage, reassuring her that this was no idle game or nasty joke being played at her expense, but rather an honest, welcome proposition by a man who seemed to yearn for her to take the reigns almost as much as she wished to grab hold of them.

Squaring her shoulders, Scarlett screwed her eyes tightly closed and moved with a small, jerk-like spasm. It was tiny, and more than a little awkward, yet, Rhett's answering groan made Scarlett feel fifty foot tall, pleased beyond all measure to discover she was capable of giving him pleasure, too.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she began to move in earnest, laying her hands down upon the broad expanse of Rhett's chest to balance herself as she lifted and rolled her hips over him.

The drag of her soft, slick skin over his hardness was heavenly, sending sparks of heat and sensation coursing through her entire body as she picked up the pace of her movements.

'Scarlett.'

Rhett's voice was a hoarse drawl that made her insides clench around him, the rough skin of his fingers stroking along the silky skin of her inner thighs and threatening to make her lose all remaining composure.

It had never felt this good before. He was so deep inside her she almost feared he would never find his way out. Being on top allowed her to push herself down almost violently onto him, rubbing against him in a way that made her head spin and her lungs come close to giving out.

She felt unbearably full one moment and unbelievably free the next; it was too much and not nearly enough at the same time, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold out for much longer.

She knew that she needed to though, for she could feel that elusive peak approaching with every pass of her hips. Every panting breath and grind of her pelvis against his brought her closer. Yet, even as she felt the ascent begin, her arms began to quiver worryingly from where they were braced against Rhett's chest, her head lolling heavily on her neck as she cried out helplessly.

'Rhett, please, oh please, I need, huh, I need...'

Her words were senseless, her movements weakening yet frantic as she felt herself collapsing down onto him mere seconds short of reaching her pleasure.

A cry of defeat slipped from her lips only to be silenced as Rhett lurched up to catch her boneless body and draw her close. Laying her head against the hot, sticky skin of his shoulder, Scarlett gasped as she felt Rhett kneel up on the mattress, pulling her legs either side of his hips as he began to thrust.

'Rhett.' She moaned, her nails digging into his biceps as she gathered the last of her energy and bravely tried to match his movements, the two of them working together to reach their desired end.

Sat face to face, Scarlett had never felt so close to her husband, his dark eyes boring steadily into hers as they ground unrelentingly against each other.

Reaching up, she captured his lips in one final kiss, pouring an entire carriage-ride's worth of imaginings into the action as she panted and probed into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his as she kissed him with everything she had left to give.

A strong, sharp thrust angled just right had her crying out and shuddering around him, her teeth biting down on his bottom lip as she collapsed exhausted against his chest.

The taste of blood filled her mouth as she heard him give a stifled curse and freeze around her, his every muscle locking in place before he jerked and fell back down onto the bed, pulling her with him as he went.

Their chests heaving, they clung to each other for a long time afterwards, both seemingly reluctant to move and risk breaking the spell that had descended upon them the moment Scarlett had first moved to stop him from leaving the room.

As he went about removing damp strands of hair from where they clung stubbornly to the side of her face, Scarlett felt Rhett chuckle underneath her and hid her head in response, afraid that he was mocking her for her common behaviour.

'I thought I knew you so well, my pet.' He laughed. 'So how is it that you never seem to stop surprising me?'

Scarlett's fear dissolved at his words and teasing tone, and she started to laugh right along with him.

'You know, Rhett,' she said, yawning widely as she snuggled closer and let her eyes drift closed. 'Sometimes, I surprise myself, too.'


	16. Chapter 16

'Uncle Rhett.'

'Hmm.'

'Uncle Rhett.'

'What is it?' He groaned, throat hoarse and eyes closed as he tried and failed to ignore the breathy, high-pitched voice in his ear and the light, but insistent, taps on his upper arm.

'Wade hit me.'

Cracking an eye open, he took in the sight of Scarlett's daughter, her face pale and her eyes large and dangerously watery as she stared up at him over the side of the bed.

'Did he, my love?' He asked, lifting his hand from Scarlett's hip to reach out and pat her small head.

'Uh huh.' She said, nodding furiously as her lower lip began to tremble.

Sensing the oncoming tears, and mindful of his wife's likely reaction were she to be torn from sleep by the sound of a howling child, Rhett wasted no time in detangling himself from Scarlett's hold and grabbing his dressing gown from off the back of the chair.

Struggling to put it on without waking his wife or unwittingly exposing himself to her already distressed daughter, Rhett made sure to tie it firmly before getting out and scooping Ella up into his arms.

'Shh, honey.' He crooned softly into her ear, cupping her little face in his palm and praying she wouldn't start crying until they'd made in out into the safety of the corridor.

Once he'd successfully negotiated their path out of the room, skirting around the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor with a decidedly roguish grin, Rhett paused to pull the door closed behind them before turning back to the pouting bundle in his arms.

'Where did he hit you?'

'There.' Ella declared, thrusting a slender arm into his face.

'Ah yes.' He said, running a hand gently across her skin. 'I can see the mark.'

In truth, her skin was as pale and perfect as always, completely unmarred by either bruise or blemish. In light of recent events though, Rhett thought it better to keep such observations to himself.

Since returning from New Orleans, he had noticed that Ella sought his attention far more frequently than she had in the days before his impromptu disappearance. He blamed himself for not having had the foresight to guess his actions might lead to such displays of neediness in the young girl. Losing a father at less than six months old was bound to affect anyone and the last thing he wanted was for Ella to start worrying that one day he might up and leave her, too.

His ill-advised trip was also doubtless the cause of Ella's newfound desire to get her brother into trouble at every possible turn. The fact that Wade had been allowed to accompany Rhett on his travels while she herself was made to stay behind had not slipped the her notice and it had led to a rather blatant show of sibling rivalry these last few days.

Unable to shake the feeling that Ella's unhappiness was all his doing, Rhett took pains to make her laugh as they headed down the hall to the nursery, blowing raspberries on her supposed wound and tickling it with his moustache until her silent sobs transformed into a round of shy, delighted giggles.

Sitting down in the only chair not covered with abandoned toys and half-read story books, Rhett reached down and picked up the doll he'd brought her back from New Orleans. Imaginatively christened 'Baby' by its young owner, the auburn haired doll had swiftly become Ella's favourite toy, it's ginger curls already slightly matted after having been repeatedly brushed by a pair of small, sticky hands.

Sure enough, the last of Ella's discontent faded away on being reunited with her beloved Baby, her face breaking out into a happy smile as she clutched the doll to her chest and began singing it a slightly stilted, garbled version of her favourite lullaby.

It was some time during the second verse that Rhett first caught sight of the suspicious looking shadow loitering beside the door.

'Wade?'

The shadow squeaked and scuttled back a few paces.

'Wade, come on in.'

Ella's face threatened to dissolve into another flood of tears as she forgot about her doll and turned hurt, accusing eyes on her older brother.

'Your sister said you hit her.'

'Sir, I-'

'Calm yourself, son.' Rhett said upon seeing the worry in Wade's eyes. 'You're not in trouble, I just want to hear what happened.'

'We were eating and Ella kept trying to take my bacon so I pushed her arm away. I didn't hit her.'

'Did too!' Ella cried, burying her head into Rhett's shoulder.

'Did not!'

'Alright, alright.' Rhett cut in, eager to end the squabble before it got any further. Dragging a hand down his tired face, he wondered when exactly his life of perpetual adventure and debacuchery had decended to the point where he was now forced to spend his mornings playing peacemaker between two warring children.

'Wade, it's not nice to push your sister. She's younger than you and it's your duty as her brother and a gentleman in the making to act with chivalry and not petulance towards ladies.' He smiled and bounced Ella on his knee. 'Even little bacon snatchers like this one.'

'Yes, sir.' Wade said, nodding his head solemnly even as he smiled cautiously in response to his step father's grin.

'And as for you, young lady.' Rhett continued, turning to fix Ella with his best paternal stare, a practiced mixture of affection and sternness that his own father had certainly never troubled himself to learn. 'A man's breakfast is a serious business and if you're intent on going about stealing it, then you'd better expect some consequences.'

Seeing Ella's wide eyed look of incomprehension, and unable to prevent a chuckle at the similarities between it and the way Scarlett often looked at him when he started quoting literature, he sighed and made a point to simplify his speech.

'It's not nice to try and get Wade in trouble for things he didn't do, Ella. I want you to promise me that from now on you won't tell me anymore fibs about your brother.'

It took a minute, but eventually Ella nodded her head, wriggling guiltily on his lap until he kissed her forehead and told her that he wasn't cross and would only be angry if she went back on her promise.

'Never make a promise you don't intend to keep.' He said earnestly, staring both children in the eye.

The sight of their small, trusting faces looking back at him made him feel oddly protective. It had always amused him that a woman as fierce as Scarlett could produce two people as innocent and meek as Wade and Ella. He knew how hard she found it to relate to them and, in turn, how desperate they were to earn her approval and vowed to try and act as a bridge between both sides from this moment on.

Raising two dead men's children was a responsibility that sat uneasily on Rhett's shoulders. In his dogged pursuit of Scarlett, he had paid little thought to the fact that marrying her would also see him become a step father twice over. His own upbringing being what it was, he had little experience of what a normal, happy family life was supposed to consist of and often felt out of his depth when dealing with domestic matters.

The situation was only made more strained by the knowledge that both Charles and Frank would surely be turning in their graves if they knew that their precious offspring were being brought up by a dishonourable scallywag such as himself.

For all his faults though, Rhett had truly come to care for Scarlett's children, far more than he had ever expected to, and he hoped that his current detente with their mother would allow the four of them, rag tag bunch that they were, to start becoming a real family.

It was this newfound determination to be a strong patriarch that saw Rhett set down Ella and instruct her to play nicely with Wade so that he could go and ready himself to go out.

If the Butler clan were to earn their place in this town then it was imperative that Rhett took control of this damned crush without delay. For the children's sake as well as his wife's, it was vital that he prevented it from becoming the social faux pas that, left unchecked, Scarlett's foolhardy impulses were bound to reduce it to.

Just trying to keep a straight face last night while she'd told him about her plans for a full piece orchestra and velvet canopy for the veranda had been a near impossible feat. Like a child let loose on its mother's jewellery box, Scarlett was too busy piling on gaudy trinket after gaudy trinket to realise that subtlety and restraint were the true markings of refinement.

He could just imagine the neighbours' sneers and raised noses if they were to enter the house, already enough of an affront to their conservative sensibilities as it was, and see it decked out so ostentatiously. They wouldn't stop bad mouthing Scarlett for years to come and the children's future prospects would be severely reduced as a result.

That was, of course, assuming they even came to the crush in the first place. They most definitely wouldn't if Scarlett went through with her ill-advised idea to invite Rufus Bullock to the proceedings. Reputations a damn sight cleaner than hers had been ruined by far smaller offences and Rhett knew she'd unwittingly overstep an invisible, but fatal, line if she were to include his name on the guest list.

Usually, if he didn't want her to do something then he would simply put his foot down and forbid her from going ahead with it. He couldn't do that now though. Not if he wanted her to keep seeking him out at night. And he did. God, how he did.

Reentering their room, he paused in the doorway to watch her sleep before heading over to his wardrobe to begin dressing. Throwing her a look over his shoulder, he was unable to quite believe that this was the same woman who had acted so alluringly the night before.

It had been hell to be cooped up with her in that tiny carriage all the way back from the hotel. His fingers had clamped down hard on the cigar between his lips as he'd forced himself to look away from her. Every time he'd glanced across, her eyes seemed to have grown a shade darker, her cheeks flushing as she gazed at him through drowsy, desiring eyes.

He'd never felt more wanted by her in his entire life. If he'd had only a dollar left to his name, he'd have willingly gambled it on the assumption she was thinking salacious thoughts about him as they were driven home, so clearly were her inner musings written across her face.

After years of battling against her unrelenting apathy, this sudden, unexpected show of interest had made him want to leap from his seat and take her right there in the carriage. He yearned to see her come apart, to know that she wanted it, wanted _him,_ after years of not caring a jot _._

The green eyed monster in him even wanted to instruct Pork to drive past the Wilkes' house a few hundred times as they came together, to call out until Ashley opened his windows and heard Scarlett's desperate, throaty sounds of pleasure. Heard them and knew that she was Rhett's once and for all, that she finally cared for her husband more than she ever had her silly childhood crush.

He might well have done it, too, had he not been only too aware of the amount of alcohol currently swimming through her blood stream.

He had lain with her when she was intoxicated once before, on a long distant night during their honeymoon. On that occasion she had drunk too much champagne and spent the journey back to their hotel singing that great Confederate anthem 'Bonnie Blue Flag' so appallingly out of tune that even the staunchest, most patriotic of Southerner's would have winced to hear it.

When they'd eventually managed to get back to their suite, Scarlett had acted unusually affectionate towards him and Rhett, in all his naivety, had revelled in each and every second of it, convinced that this was to be the night when she finally realised her love for him.

He had made love to her so tenderly. Stripped of his usual masks, he had stared down into her eyes with devotion written plainly across every inch of his face. She'd let him touch her that night, too, had let him stroke and manipulate her most sensitive places until she'd cried out and clawed at the bedsheets as she climaxed for what he strongly suspected was the very first time.

Cradling her tightly against his chest afterwards, he had leaned down and whispered those all important words into her ear, his heart clenching when she'd smiled sleepily in response and murmured his name softly before drifting off.

He had lain awake the entire night, watching her sleep and eagerly imagining the new world she would wake to in the morning, a world in which their love for one another was displayed openly instead of concealed, in which they laughed instead of fought and kissed every bit as passionately as they'd once quarrelled.

He'd thought about how much he had to tell her now that he was assured of her love. There were so many things he had kept hidden from her up to that point, so many secrets he had not felt brave enough to share. Now he could tell her them all. Now he could finally know what it felt like to love and be loved in return.

When dawn came and she opened up her eyes, he had felt reborn, ready and eager to shed his old life like an outgrown skin and step into a better one.

His joy had barely lasted five minutes.

Scarlett had been in an extremely sour mood when she awoke. Everything had been wrong. Her head had hurt, her stomach had been tender, she'd felt like she might be sick at any moment. The list had been endless and through it all she'd glared at him so balefully one would have been forgiven for thinking he'd held her mouth open and physically forced the alcohol down her throat.

Careful questioning had revealed that she did not remember anything from the previous night. In fact, save for a few snatches of singing and a vague recollection of drinking too much, the whole evening was nothing but one big blank to her.

Everything he'd said, everything he'd shared, gone in the blink of an eye.

He'd tried to touch her, to rekindle the closeness they'd had, but she had rebuffed him harshly, stinging words falling from unloving lips and dousing the fires that had begun to blaze inside of him.

It had been beyond devastating and after that Rhett had pledged never again to lay with her when she was inebriated. The idea that it was only the alcohol that had made her want him was too bitter a pill to swallow twice and he would not be tricked into opening his heart to a woman too drunk to remember it in the morning ever again.

It was this that had seen him repeatedly try to distance himself from her upon their return from the National. He'd fully expected her to go to bed after he'd left her to help Pork stable the horses and had had to remind himself sternly that it was just the wine that had kept her waiting patiently for him in the hallway.

Refusing to let excitement build up in his chest, he'd denied her again, this time under the pretext of having work to do. He would have abstained, too, had she not almost fallen trying to walk upstairs to bed, guilt flooding through him as he heard her cry out and realised that in pursuing his own need to get away from her, he had selfishly caused her to injure herself instead.

After carrying her to their bedroom, Rhett had once more tried to make a retreat, his fists clenching as he'd tried to ignore the salacious glances his wife kept shooting him as she stretched and writhed upon the mattress.

All his efforts had fallen away to nothing, however, the moment she had ordered him to remove his waistcoat.

It had been such a pivotal moment. Arguably, the most significant one in their entire relationship.

This was Scarlett not simply accepting or even enjoying their relations, but actively instigating them in no uncertain terms. She had not only made her desire known, but had fully taken control of the situation, risking rejection and ridicule and trusting him enough to respond with neither.

She wanted him and she trusted him and for first time since that wondrous, hateful night in New Orleans, he'd felt a spark of hope that one day soon she might even come to love him, too.

Their coupling had been a revelation, the sight of Scarlett moving above him, her back arched and her mouth falling open in ecstasy would be burned on his brain for the rest of eternity.

Once, he had looked upon faithful married men with scornful, disbelieving eyes. The idea of saddling oneself with the same woman forever was not one that he had ever coveted, or even understood. There were so many beautiful women in the world and he had thought that laying with the same one time and again would soon grow repetitive and dull.

He now knew better.

Every time he touched her, he wanted more. His thirst, rather than being sated, only grew stronger with each passing day. He wanted to own every inch of her, to crawl inside her body and never come out. He wanted to erase every last thought of other men until his name was the only one that she could remember. The only one she'd ever think to utter.

Eyes burning, Rhett straightened his cravat and smoothed down his suit before returning to the bedroom and making his way quickly over to Scarlett's side. Reaching out a hand, he stroked her tangled hair before cupping her cheek in his palm.

'Mmm, Rhett?' She groaned, knocking his hand away and curling up deeper under the covers.

For a moment, his heart stopped, painful memories of that honeymoon morning invading his head and making him fear the worst.

'Good morning, my dear.' He said after taking a minute to recompose himself. 'I have to go into town now, but the children are up and dressed and are busy playing in the nursery. I should be back some time this afternoon, do you need me to get you anything while I'm out?'

'No.' Came Scarlett's muffled reply from somewhere deep within the duvet.

Rhett chuckled before growing serious. 'Are you planning on going out today?'

'Yes.' She said, finally emerging from beneath the covers, her face flushed and her hair sticking out every which way. To Rhett's eyes, she'd never looked prettier. 'I have to go into town to order a few things for the crush.'

Rhett nodded and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He had expected her to want to visit the mills again and wasn't entirely sure how he'd have gone about trying to stop her. It had been hard enough preventing her from going the day before, anyone but Scarlett would no doubt have seen straight through his sudden announcement that they were eating out that night, but, thankfully, his wife had always been easily distracted where food was concerned.

If convincing her had been easy though, then trying to book a table at such late notice had been anything but. He'd finally thrown enough money their way to secure a booking for half past six- with a complimentary bottle of wine or two thrown in for good measure. The fact that the booking was for half an hour later than the time he'd originally told Scarlett might have easily unearthed his lie had he not purposely arrived late to the store in order to delay their arrival time.

That he had successfully gotten away with such a deceit once though did not make him eager to repeat the process anytime soon. If Scarlett realised that he was deliberately trying to keep her from the mills then her determination to go there would only increase tenfold, and things between them were currently in far too delicate a stage to risk having Mr. Wilkes destroy them by filling her head with insipid words and empty promises.

'Of course.' He agreed, happy for her to spend as much as his ill-gotten gains on her party as she liked if it helped to keep her from setting foot in a certain sawmill. Besides, he already had plans to monitor her purchases and go around cancelling them as soon as they were placed.

If this crush was to be salvaged, then it was inevitable he would have to play a little dirty. Scarlett would only rebel if he told her of his intentions to take over the organisation of the party, but if he arranged it all quietly and without her prior knowledge then she would have no chance to protest until it was too late to do anything about it.

It was cruel, perhaps, to hijack her beloved gathering in this way, but if it saved her from subsequent humiliation then he would happily deceive her every day of the week. Besides, he was confident that once she saw his alternative decor and the admiration it was bound to elicit from their guests, she would be only too grateful for the changes he had made.

Bending down, he kissed her cheek lightly and breathed in her heavy, sleepy scent, fighting hard against the temptation to bury his head in the crook of her neck and remain there for the rest of the day.

It was a trial to leave her, but he knew that he must. Reluctantly, he drew back, granting himself one last lingering look before he turned swiftly on his heel and left the room.

Heading downstairs with a gleam in his eye and a purpose to his step, he vowed that once he had successfully managed to save her crush, and the family name right along with it, he would hurry straight back to their bedroom and pick up where they'd so promisingly left off the night before.


	17. Chapter 17

_Sorry for the gap, my old computer finally gave up the ghost and it's taken me an age to get around to buying another._ _Thanks for the messages about wanting more, they were a nice surprise when I finally got back online. I love reviews and I'm really grateful to everyone who takes the time to write one, I know it can be a bit of a chore! Hope you all enjoy this latest chapter, the crush is fast approaching so be sure to make the most of the (relative) peace while you can!_

* * *

 **Three weeks later**

Lunch had long since come and gone by the time Scarlett finally managed to resolve the latest disrupt with the drapers.

As she marched out of the building with an empty stomach and a troubled mind, she could not help thinking that, had she known quite how stressful organising her crush would turn out to be, she would never have decided to hold it in the first place. Almost every waking moment in the three weeks since she'd first begun arranging it had been filled with some sort of problem or other. Indeed, had she not been so determined to see her fantasy come to life, even her infamous iron will would surely have melted under the constant strain of mistakes and ill-judged decisions it presented.

Even this morning's meeting with the drapers, meant to last thirty minutes at most, had uncovered enough issues to ensure that the appointment had run over by several hours. Rhett had only arranged for them to come to the house at the last minute, thinking she might like to look over their choice of fabrics, and it was a damn lucky job that he had, too.

Despite having given them the clearest of instructions, the so called professionals had somehow managed to botch the entire order to a frankly preposterous degree.

Instead of the opulent, golden silk tablecloths she had requested, they had presented her with a rough, cotton-like material dyed the colour of dirty dishwater. To make matters worse, rather than the beautiful red velvet canopy she had been envisioning for the verandah, they had selected some thick black canvas thing, so ugly she would have been ashamed to wrap her rubbish in it, let alone her darling house.

After five minutes spent frantically trying to push down her rising sense of panic, Scarlett had eventually managed to compose herself enough to berate them for their utter incompetence and had threatened to bad mouth their establishment from here to Clayton County if they didn't fix everything in the next twenty four hours.

Not trusting them to carry out the task unaided, she had demanded that they take her to their store and show her their precise range of materials. It had taken some doing, but she'd finally managed to find ones that just about resembled the images she'd so lovingly been carrying around in her head for the last month or so.

Though the issue had been resolved, Scarlett was still far from reassured. She couldn't help but think that the owner of the store had acted rather strangely when she'd made him promise that the fabrics she'd selected would be the ones used for the crush. Sure, he'd nodded his head in the right places and made vague grunts of assent while she'd spoken, but there had been something about the way he'd refused to meet her eye and had seemed unusually eager to usher her out of the shop which had made her suspicions rise.

If it had been an isolated incident, she probably wouldn't have troubled herself to take notice of it, but a similar thing had happened at virtually every establishment she'd done business with. Indeed, nearly all the tradespeople she'd spoken to about the upcoming party had worn identical expressions. None of them would hold her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, and many looked downright uncomfortable when assuring her that everything would arrive at the house on time and exactly to her specifications.

It unnerved her to be met with such unsettling behavior at every turn. At first, she'd waved it off as a mark of respect, thinking that they must truly fear invoking the wrath of a couple as powerful as the Butlers' if they could not even bare to look at her directly, but as time went on, she'd begun to wonder if there wasn't another, less flattering reason behind their nervous, almost guilty expressions.

Try as she might, however, she had been unable to uncover the actual cause, and there was precious little time left to worry about it now. The crush, as planned, was set to take place tomorrow evening, and all the decorations, for better or for worse, were to be delivered at ten a.m. on the dot.

Thinking about how soon the party would be upon them, Scarlett could not believe how quickly the last few weeks had passed. A near constant cycle of ordering items, finding fault with them, arguing with the companies responsible, and having to reorder everything only to find the replacements to be lacking in some other way had kept her incredibly busy recently and even her attention to her beloved businesses, usually at the very forefront of her mind, had slipped back so far as to become almost nonexistent.

She had not set foot inside her store in over three weeks, and it was longer still since she had last had the pleasure of visiting the mills. For all the excitement surrounding the crush, she missed both businesses greatly and part of her was looking forward to the moment when she would finally be able to put all this madness behind her and resume life as normal.

The thought of what it would be like to cross the threshold of Ashley's office and feel the much missed warmth of his loving gaze fall across her once again was so potent it was almost unbearable. It had been so long since she had last seen him and their continued separation was beginning to take a serious toll on her.

To think that, bar for a few fleeting glances stolen here and there, she had barely set eyes on him since the Wilkes' dinner party last month made her heart sink heavily in her chest and a frown pucker darkly across her brow.

She missed his elegance, so different from Rhett's masculine brawn, his knowing, dreamy gaze and his beautiful, blond hair. She missed the way he looked at her, the way his measured words fell so delicately upon the air, and the way her whole being seemed to lift up and float weightlessly around the room whenever she was fortunate enough to share it with him.

It had been a challenge to stay away, and looking back, she could not quite believe that she had managed to get by without him for so long. Everything had been so rushed these last few weeks, days slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, small and inconsequential when studied separately, but adding up to something far greater and more significant when joined together.

Often had she thought of throwing off her obligations and heading over to the mills, only to lose her nerve before she could order Pork to saddle up the horses. It was not a reluctance to see him that prevented her from going, never that, but rather the thought of how dearly her crush would suffer if she were to suddenly neglect her responsibilities towards it.

Denied of his company, Scarlett had instead begun to use the spectre of Ashley as a much needed means of motivation whenever she became frustrated with the never ending list of chores that the party's organisation inevitably threw up. In these moments, she had learnt to calm herself by closing her eyes and imagining the way Ashley's eyes would widen in awe and boundless admiration as he stepped inside her home and was assaulted by its unparalleled splendour. She would smile secretly to herself as she pictured him turning to her with a newfound respect in his eyes, gazing down upon her in wonder as he realised what a great lady she had grown up to be.

In moments such as these, she could not help but recall the last big gathering they had attended together, a party in which he had declared Melanie to be a better far fit for him than herself. How wonderful it would feel to see him stand corrected. To know that he now recognised their deep seated compatibility where once he had focussed only on the superficial differences.

She had not been lying that night in the study when she'd told Rhett that she wasn't planning the party for Ashley's benefit, for, initially at least, the idea had not entered her mind. Yet, she could not deny that sometime between Rhett speaking the words aloud and this present moment, it had gradually grown to become her primary focus.

Perhaps it was a consequence of being kept away from him for so long, her mind striving to fill the space which his physical presence usually occupied in whatever way it possibly could.

No matter the cause though, one only had to look at the way she had reacted to his and Melanie's letter of acceptance to know exactly how much his attendance had come to mean to her. On reading their note, she had cried out loud in joy, consumed by a fit of girlish excitement the like of which she had not experienced since before the war had cut her childhood tragically short. Clutching the paper tightly to her chest, she had spun blissfully around the empty room, laughing aloud to herself and only stopping when Mammy knocked on the door and asked her what on earth had gotten into her.

Certainly some madness must have overtaken her for, sometimes, she even thought that she would happily watch every other person in town turn up their noses at her cherished house and sneer at her carefully planned decor, if only she could guarantee that he would look upon them favourably.

That could not be right though. After all, she wanted all of Atlanta's residents to admire her crush, she craved to see their faces slacken and fall as they took in the beauty of their surroundings. That was why she had chosen to hold one in the first place. She wanted this party to go down in local history as the most extravagant, decadent gathering that the city had ever had the honour of witnessing. She wanted it to be the main topic of conversation for years, if not decades, to come.

Most of all though, she wanted it to prove to everyone what a fine lady she could be.

In order for any of her wishes to be met, however, she first needed people to attend. While she herself had never doubted that they would, Rhett had seemed far less certain that their friends and neighbours would agree to come, cautioning Scarlett in the days after she had first sent out the invitations to not feel too down-hearted if she ended up receiving less replies than she'd been expecting.

As sure as she was that no one would turn down an invitation to so grand and exclusive an occasion, her husband's words of warning had nevertheless begun to seep into her consciousness, and so it was with more than a touch of relief that she had greeted the slow, but increasingly steady, stream of acceptance letters that had come their way.

In all the commotion, however, she had not failed to notice that one important invitation had gone unanswered. An invitation whose recipient had the power to elevate her crush far beyond the paltry realms of normal parties.

As much as she may have disliked the idea of Republican rule, there was no getting away from the fact that having a governor in attendance would add some undeniable gravitas to proceedings.

In fact, if her crush was to be the resounding success that she yearned for it to be, then Scarlett believed it was nothing short of imperative that Rufus Bullock be there. A belief that made his continued silence a particularly painful thorn in her side.

Sometimes, she tried to convince herself that she had forgotten to write out his invitation, or that maybe it had fallen out of the pile on her desk and been lost before it could be sent to him.

As much as she would have liked to believe such falsehoods, however, deep down she knew that they were exactly that.

After the Wilkes', Mr. Bullock's invitation had been the first one she'd written, and she was certain that she had taken special care to place his envelope right at the top of the pile she had handed to Rhett a fortnight ago.

That night in bed, she'd asked him over and over again if he had delivered it, and he had assured her repeatedly that he had.

'I was hardly likely to forget given the amount of times you ordered me to do it.' He'd said dryly on her tenth time of asking, running his hand slowly along the soft silk of her inner thigh, his fingers stroking back and forth, back and forth, until she could scarcely remember her own name let alone her lingering concerns over the guest list.

Scarlett shivered as she recalled what had happened next, before flushing a burning red when she recalled where she The was. To do such things in the privacy of one's bedroom was scandalous -though secretly enjoyable- enough, but to fantasise about them in the middle of the street in broad daylight? That was truly brazen.

Casting a panicked eye around at the other people on the pavement, she sighed in relief when no one stared back, having half-convinced herself that they could hear her inner thoughts and would all be stood around glaring at her in dismay. As she looked around, a smartly dressed man to her left caught her eye and gave her an admiring look. The instincts from her days as a belle resurfacing, she smiled back coquettishly until her brain caught up and she inhaled sharply in recognition.

Rhett had introduced her to him a few months ago when they'd been out walking. Thomas, was it? Or Turner? No, Taylor. Mr. Taylor. That was it.

She'd seen him before that day, of course. With a penchant for strutting around town with his nose in the air and a superior look in his beady eyes, he was hardly the sort of man that was easy to miss. Nor, thought Scarlett, was he the sort of person people took an instant liking to.

Nothing about his conversation with Rhett that day had conspired to change her mind, not that she had given him too much of her attention, having been far more interested in looking at the new dresses in the shop window than listening to her husband and some stranger drone on about politics.

She remembered who he was though, and, more importantly, who it was that he worked for.

'Mr. Taylor.' She called, putting on her most winning smile as she hurried to catch up with him.

'Mrs. Butler.' He said, bowing deeply before taking her hand and kissing it with what he no doubt intended to be a rakish flourish only to fall laughably short.

Gritting her teeth to rid herself of the impulse to wipe her glove on her skirts, Scarlett marvelled at the way a career in politics never failed to make oily weasels out of even the most outwardly decent looking of men.

'What a strange coincidence it is to find myself running into you.' She simpered. 'I confess I was thinking about you only moments ago.'

'Were you indeed?' He smirked, raising his thin eyebrows suggestively. 'And what, pray tell, did your thoughts consist of?'

Scarlett giggled falsely, her eyes gleaming in a way Rhett would have aptly likened to those of a cat who's been fortunate enough to have an unsuspecting mouse run straight into its path. 'I was thinking what a shame it was that you and Govenor Bullock have decided to decline our invitation.'

'Invitation?' He asked, a little too eagerly. 'What invitation?'

'The one to our party that my husband delivered to Mr. Bullock's offices a few weeks ago.'

'I'm afraid that I don't remember any such letter.'

Scarlett frowned, that couldn't be right. Rhett had promised her that he'd delivered it. What reason did he have to lie? He was good friends with Rufus Bullock, surely he would want him to be at the crush? There must have been some sort of misunderstanding. Keen to get to the bottom of it, Scarlett grew more cunning. 'Oh, how odd. He told me that he'd handed it directly to Mr. Bullock's right hand man. Forgive me, that is you, is it not?'

'Why, indeed it is, my dear lady.' He said, puffing himself up like one of Aunt Pittypat's beloved barnyard roosters. 'Governor Bullock relies of me greatly. My duties often see me called out of the office on important business though, and I'm afraid my assistant is rather second rate. The son of one of Rufus' more influential business acquaintances. You know the sort. Big on family connections, criminally short on brains. No doubt he mislaid the invitation. When did you say your party was?'

Scarlett smiled and gazed up at him through fluttering lashes. 'Tomorrow night.'

Mr. Taylor frowned. 'Tomorrow night? That's rather short notice, I'm afraid. The Governor has an evening meeting he won't be able to get out of-'

'But, surely you could persuade him to come by after his meeting?' Scarlett cajoled sweetly, unwilling to let such a perfect opportunity pass her by. 'After all, the Governor values your opinion in all matters, and I know my husband would greatly appreciate your efforts if you were to encourage him to attend.'

Mr. Taylor's eyes flashed at the mention of Rhett as Scarlett had hoped they would, the prospect of having someone so influential owing him a favour no doubt proving too enticing a prospect to turn down.

'I wouldn't usually, but for you, my dear Mrs. Butler, I shall do all that I can.'

'Thank you, Mr. Taylor.' She said as he bowed and made to take his leave. 'Neither my husband nor I will forget your kindness.'

With a conspiratorial nod, he turned and continued on his way up the street, leaving a very self-satisfied Scarlett standing in his wake.

Who needed men? Thanks to her, the problems created by both the drapers' and Rhett's incompetence had been successfully resolved, and now the crush looked set to become every bit as grand as she'd always hoped it would.

Uplifted by the afternoon's events, Scarlett decided to reward herself by stopping by the store on her way home. She did not trust her staff to look after it properly and felt that both they and her profit margins would both benefit greatly if she were to call in. She only wished that she had the time and means to visit the mills too, but it was already getting on and she would need to go home soon to eat her severely delayed lunch.

All hopes of looking over the books were swiftly curtailed, however, the very moment she stepped through the front door. A happy cries of 'Mother' and the feel of two small bodies careening into her skirts putting paid to any chance of getting some actual work done.

'Hello, children.' She said through gritted teeth, reaching down to pat Wade and Ella's heads distractedly as her eyes roamed the store for her husband.

Sure enough, she spotted him towards the back of the room, head bent low as he spoke with Mrs. Elsing of all people. What those two would have to say to one another she did not know, for the latter had held a vicious grudge against Rhett ever since the night he'd decided to publically call attention to her unmistakably flat chest.

They seemed to be getting along rather well at the moment though. Indeed, Mrs. Elsing, never one to openly display interest if she could possibly help it, was nodding along almost enthusiastically as Rhett spoke.

If she had walked in upon such a scene a month ago, Scarlett would have probably fainted in shock, but recently Rhett had begun going out of his way to charm the very citizens he would once have happily crossed the street to avoid talking to.

She did not know what had prompted such a change of heart, Rhett's answers being as cryptic and infuriating as always whenever she had tried to question him upon the matter, but she had noticed it wasn't the only such transformation to come about in these last weeks.

Rhett had also begun to show a far greater interest in family life recently. He had always been very close to the children, of course, but now he had started encouraging Scarlett to start joining in with their games and activities as well. Whether it was reading them stories, taking them for walks around the neighbourhood or going out for afternoon trips to the park, altogether Scarlett had ended up spending more time with Wade and Ella in these last few weeks than she had in all the years preceding them.

All the interaction was beginning to grate on Scarlett's nerves, especially as it was coming at a time when her days were already full to bursting thanks to the constant demands of the crush.

She didn't mean to imply that it had all been bad, the children had always behaved better in Rhett's presence and it was nice to see that Wade and Ella were now capable of speaking to her without blushing beet red or stammering through every other sentence.

Still, after months of skirting around each other like four strangers who just happened to live under the same roof, it felt mighty strange to suddenly have to act like a doting family all the time.

Only half listening as Wade and Ella fought to be the first to tell her about their day, Scarlett watched as Rhett finally finished his conversation and headed over.

'My dear,' he drawled, reaching down to plant a kiss upon her cheek. 'I was hoping you'd stop by the store after finishing up with the drapers. The children and I felt terrible about you missing your lunch, so we decided we'd all come and collect you before going back home to eat together.'

'Thank you.' She said, both genuinely touched by their concern and greatly relieved that they hadn't come to ask her to walk around that damn park again. It was dull enough at the best of times, but on an empty stomach it would be nothing short of unbearable.

Rhett smiled, eyes alight. 'Well, I say we planned on eating together. I'm afraid one of us may have gotten a trifle peckish and gobbled up a slice or two of Lou's cake before we left.'

Scarlett looked down as both children instantly scrambled to blame the other, unable to hold in her laughter when she spotted the tell tale crumbs coating Wade's bottom lip. She did not know why, but it pleased her to know that her son wasn't quite as innocent as he appeared. Perhaps there was a bit more O'Hara blood lurking in Charles' miniature than she'd first assumed.

As she allowed herself to be ushered out of her store with out a fuss, Scarlett turned to Rhett. 'What were you speaking to Mrs. Elsing about?'

'Nothing that would interest you, my pet.' He said smoothly, eyes averted.

Scowling at his evasive answer, Scarlett pursed her lips and bit down on the desire to tell him about her encounter with Mr. Taylor. If Rhett was allowed to have secret conversations, then it was only fair that she had one of her own, too. Besides, she reasoned, it would be far more satisfying to watch his mouth fall open in surprise when Rufus Bullock walked through their door tomorrow night. How good it would feel to boast about how she'd been able to do what he had not, and how pleased he would be to see his friend mingling amongst their other guests.

All in all, tomorrow, she thought with pride, was certainly shaping up to be a night to remember.

 _A.N. Being Welsh, I have only a very slim grasp of US political history so Mr. Taylor is entirely fictional and is not meant to represent anyone in Mr. Bullock's actual staff. I tried looking it up, but Wikipedia let me down, so I had to make do with my imagination. No offence was meant by his less than flattering description, here in the UK, we have our own fair share of slimy politicians too!_

 _See you all soon._


	18. Chapter 18

_Surprise! As a way of making up for my long absence, I thought I'd rush this one out for you. I feel a bit bad for posting about shenanigans on a Sunday, but I'm guessing that Rhett would probably approve! Hope you enjoy._

* * *

The morning of the crush dawned bright and early, not a single cloud marring the delicate blue sky. From the comfort of his warm bed, Rhett watched the pale sunlight creep under the curtains and stalk silently across the carpet, the corners of his mouth turning up in a wry smile.

He could not help but think that, on a day such as this, thunder and lightning would have been far more fitting.

Rolling over, he turned to face Scarlett's back, reaching out to run his fingers softly through her hair as he wondered just what the next twenty-four hours would bring. He clutched her close for what he feared might be the last time in quite a while. Despite the many precautions he had taken to ensure that she would not be able to trace the upcoming events back to him, he still worried that his machinations would end up being caught out.

And he was under no illusions as to just how dearly he would be made to pay if they were.

It had been easy enough for him to persuade the retailers of this town to ignore every order his wife placed with them and instead follow his alternative, and far more conservative, set of instructions. They were practical people after all, motivated by money rather than morals, and it had not taken much persuading to convince them to help him mislead his unsuspecting wife.

If he felt a twinge of remorse when he thought about how much time and effort she had needlessly poured into her crush this last month, then he quickly repressed it, reasoning that, in this instance, the end would more than justify the means.

More than anything, Scarlett wanted this crush to be a success and, in order for that to happen, it was imperative that her gaudy instincts be supplanted by his own, more considered layout. Unlike his wife, he understood exactly what the residents of this city would and would not accept, and red velvet canvases and full piece orchestras definitely fell into the latter category.

Were he to let Scarlett furnish the party as she so desired, the Old Guard would never forgive her. They would see it as a criticism of their own reduced circumstances, a blatant boast on the part of two low-down scallywags who not only had the gall to flourish in times when good, innocent people were suffering bitterly, but who were also badly bred enough to rub their ill-gotten fortune in the faces of those less well off than themselves.

Rather than being elevated to the status of a great lady, Scarlett would fall so far, and so frighteningly fast, that her reputation would never be able to recover. No amount of money or charm would be enough to save her, and, by God, how Rhett yearned to be the one to save her.

It was to this end that he had begun his campaign to get back into the good graces of Atlanta society, painstakingly reintegrating himself and his family back into the bosom of the Old Guard one small step at a time. It had taken some doing, the formidable old battleaxes and wizened menfolk of this town were nothing if not deeply entrenched in their outdated ideas and long held grudges, but slowly he was beginning to see the first few cracks appearing in their previously impenetrable armour.

A few days ago, Mrs. Merriweather had deigned to give him some tips on how to help Ella sleep through the night. The fact that his stepdaughter had never suffered from insomnia did not trouble Rhett in the slightest. Nor did he feel guilty for cornering Mrs. Elsing, the victim of one of his crueller barbs back in the day, in Scarlett's store yesterday and asking her if she knew of any remedies for Wade's imaginary patches of dry skin.

The children were the only wholly pure thing left about Rhett and Scarlett these days, and he had no qualms whatsoever about using them to gain an advantage. They, along with Scarlett, would benefit most from a thawing of relations between the Butlers' and the rest of Atlanta and so, he reasoned, in was only fair that they played their part in helping such a detente to come about.

He could not say that he'd particularly enjoyed having to curry the favour of the very people who had shunned him for the best part of the last decade. Only a short time into his campaign, he had realised that the subversive pleasure he had taken in masquarading as a perfect Southern gentleman during the war had long since disappeared. Now, he felt no such satisfaction in tricking them into reluctant friendship and often found himself having to violently suppress the urge to burn the fragile bridges he had succeeded in building with a scathing comment intended to tear these hypocritical, self-righteous old goats to shreds.

No matter how unpleasant it had been at times though, he had done it for the same reason he did most things in life. He had done it for her.

Not that she appreciated the gesture, of course. Never the most intuitive of women, Scarlett had no understanding of why sucking up to these people would work better than showing off to them by way of a fancy party. Instead, she only grew more suspicious and sullen each time she caught him conversing with his former critics, correctly assuming that he must be up to something while never imagining that he might be acting with her own best interests at heart.

He wished that he could enlighten her as to his reasoning, but knew that he could not. To do so would only leave him vulnerable to a whole host of other questions, many of which were bound to stray into uncomfortable territory and threaten to bring his whole, carefully constructed plan crashing down around his head.

He had come too far now to risk failing on the home stretch. There was only one real hurdle left to navigate before he could officially relax. Unfortunately, this last obstacle was also the largest and, as such, Rhett had planned every last minute of the day with a level of precision that even military leaders would have been envious of.

All of the supplies for the crush were set to arrive at ten thirty of the dot. However, he had informed Scarlett that they would be here by ten. He estimated that by ten past the hour, with no deliveries in sight, she would be so enraged that she would happily march all the way into town on foot if it meant she'd be able to scream her displeasure at the offending tradespeople quicker.

Of course, he did not intend for her to have to walk. No, instead he would order Pork to prepare the carriage and send her off in the direction of the dressmakers -from whom she had ordered a bright red, hideously ostentatious dress that, unbeknownst to her, he had paid good money to ensure would never arrive- to berate them soundly for their presumed tardiness.

As well as tipping the dressmaker's handsomely for having to endure the indignity of Scarlett yelling at them for half an hour, it was here that Rhett had arranged for Melanie Wilkes to 'accidentally' bump into her.

Told to act as if she had seen Scarlett by chance, Melanie was under strict instructions to beg Scarlett to ride out with her to Ashley's mill, declaring -and this was the one facet of the plan where no lies were necessary- that the business had been suffering without the presence of Scarlett's guiding hand.

Though this was the part that Rhett had the most confidence in, it was also the one that he liked the least. All month he had been using the crush as a handy way of keeping Scarlett from visiting her beloved, creating one supposed problem after another with the aim of tying his wife down and preventing her from having the time to ride out to the mills.

It had worked better than even he had dared to hope it might. Scarlett had not spoken to Ashley in just under a month and he was beginning to hope than the esteemed gentlemen's hold over her was finally on the wane. She had not mentioned his name in days, and was becoming ever more responsive to Rhett's touch at night.

Their marital relations, once as fraught and hazardous as a minefield, had gradually settled down into something far calmer and more stable these last few weeks. That was not to say their nightly activities were in any way dull though. Far from it. Indeed, in all his many years of experience, Rhett could scarcely remember having enjoyed more satisfying encounters between the sheets. Scarlett, while still a novice in some areas, and as of yet unwilling to venture into many others, was nevertheless learning to let go of her reservations and give herself over to the act with an intensity and a passion that frequently stole Rhett's breath clean away.

He too was starting to reveal more of himself during their intimate moments, using his body to express emotions that his pride barred him from speaking aloud. With touches and kisses, he bared himself to her as best he could, offering up his heart in the hope that one day soon she might just hand over hers in return.

Imagining such a thing, he felt the familiar, burning itch of desire steal over him once again, causing him to fill and harden beneath the duvet. Leaning back, he reached for his pocket watch on top of the table by the bed, flipping it open and frowning slightly when he saw the time.

Eight forty five.

It wouldn't leave them much time to get ready, but it should be doable. It was a foolish risk to take at such a late stage in the game, but then Rhett had always liked playing with fire, especially where Scarlett was concerned.

Setting the watch down, he rolled back over to face his wife, moving across until his front pressed up tightly along the entire length of her back. Placing his hand lightly on her hip, he brushed her hair aside and began nibbling his way along the side of her neck, feeling himself twitch and lengthen further when she began to sigh and squirm up against him.

'Hmm, Rhett.' She breathed, still half asleep and caught up in that warm, soft world between reality and dreaming.

Encouraged by her response, Rhett allowed his lips to wander to the sensitive spot behind her ear, laving her pale skin with his tongue and leaving a fine trail of goose pimples in his wake.

Coming around, Scarlett pushed herself back into his embrace, unknowingly trapping his hardness between their bodies and sending Rhett's need soaring higher still.

With a grunt, he moved to position himself better, lifting her leg up and pulling it back until it draped across his own. Taking advantage of the newly created gap, he slid himself between her parted legs, rubbing his length along the silken seam of her mound.

'Rhett!' Scarlett cried, half in pleasure and half in protest, the shock of his actions serving to instantly snap her out of the last of her slumber.

'Shh.' He whispered soothingly, wrapping his arm around her middle to prevent her from getting away.

'Oh, Lord.' She moaned roughly as he began to rock against her steadily, dragging himself through her wetness again and again until she cried out in surrender and collapsed back against him heavily.

Taking advantage of her temporary stupor, Rhett reached down and parted her lower lips with his fingers, lining himself up smoothly before slipping easily inside.

The heat and feel of her assaulted him like a body blow as he sunk in, his arm coming back to up wrap around her stomach as he fought to remain in control.

Hardly dating to breathe, he stayed like that for many moments, burying his nose in the nape of her neck and revelling in the way this position allowed him to go deeper than ever before.

The sensation was overwhelming and he longed to remain lying there forever, so close to his wife that they almost ceased to be two separate entities. Pulling out felt like a tragedy, every cell in his body screaming at him to stay where he was. The way her damp passage clung to him as if unwilling to let him leave was nothing short of spiritual, and certainly the closest thing to heaven a blagged like himself was ever likely to experience.

As he moved back inside, his hips to fell into a natural rhythm as old as time itself as he began to thrust with an increased sense of purpose. Alongside him, he felt Scarlett's breathing pick up, her hand grasping wildly for his and clutching it tightly against her stomach.

'Scarlett.' He groaned hoarsely, lifting their entwined hands to her chin and pushing against it until she turned her head enough to allow their lips to meet in a messy, desperate kiss.

Below, he began to move with more urgency, slamming himself against her roughly as he devoured her mouth and moved his hand to her breast, cupping it through the thin satin of her nightdress and pinching the hard nub of her nipple sharply between his long, talented fingers.

The unexpected touch made her cry out and writhe upon the mattress, caught up in a never ending barrage of sensation that attacked her from every angle and refused to let her come up for air.

Feeling her walls starting to contract, Rhett plundered her mouth with his tongue, her choked gasp all the warning he received before she clamped down hard around him, her spasms all but tearing Rhett's orgasm from him and sending a blinding flash of white static shooting across his vision.

Exhausted, they fell heavily against one another, Rhett's breathing coming fast and laboured as he relaxed his grip upon her breast and brought his hand back down to rest upon her stomach.

Breathing in, he savoured the sweet, rich smell of her sated body, a scent that he had grown far more familiar with in recent times and which was fast becoming the most demanding of all his many addictions.

If he could have, he would have loved nothing more than to remain inside her forever, hidden away from the world with its crushes and looming spectres of blond haired men, in a place that only the two to them would ever know.

Even as he thought about it though, he could feel himself begin to soften and slip out from between her legs, an aching emptiness settling in his chest as he turned reluctantly away to lie out on his back.

Remebering the time, he reached out again for his watch, cursing when he saw that it was already gone twenty past nine.

Looking back over at his flushed, but noticeably content wife, Rhett let himself lie back and watch her for a few more minutes, taking the opportunity to drink her in fully before he was forced to kick off the covers and drag himself out of bed.

If all went well, there would be ample opportunity to study her like this again later tonight, and, if it didn't, well-

To be honest, he had no clue what would happen if everything did not go as planned, although he was fairly certain, given Scarlett's colourful history, that it was bound to contain a large amount of shouting and broken crockery.

No matter how the day was set to unfold, however, he knew that he could put it off no longer. Ready or not, it was time for the crush to begin.


	19. Chapter 19

'Where would you like me to put the lanterns, sir?' The young lad from the warehouse asked rather urgently, his thin arms struggling to keep hold of the large box of very expensive -and very breakable- glass as he tottered unsteadily in the doorway.

Spotting the danger, Rhett hurried across the hall and helped him to set it down carefully on the carpet, earning himself a grateful smile in the process.

'You can leave it there for now, thank you, Jimmy. I'll see to it myself later once I've finished up in the ballroom.'

'Yes, sir.' Jimmy nodded dutifully, taking a moment to flex the cramping muscles in his hands before heading back out to bring the rest of the boxes in.

Mentally adding _String up the lanterns_ to the ever-growing list of things he still needed to do, Rhett cast an approving eye around the hallway before heading back up to the third floor _._

As well as decorating the house, he had also made the decision to adapt it as best he could. Between leaving the porch and arriving in the ballroom, the guests would have to pass through the downstairs hallway and up three flights of stairs. Not wanting them to form a negative impression of the parts of the house they saw along the way, Rhett had tried to tweak it as best he could.

Of course, there was nothing he could do about the oppressive wallpaper or thick carpets, as any attempt to disguise or remove them would have required far more time than he currently had at his disposal. Nevertheless, he had tried to make subtle improvements as and where he could. To this end, he had ordered that all the furniture that was not too heavy to lift be taken away and stored safely out of sight, opening up the space and helping to remove its usually stifling atmosphere.

As well as this, he had also had everything taken down from the walls. Gone were the brooding pictures and gaudy mirrors with their elaborate, tasteless frames. In their place were hung the simpler, brighter paintings which Scarlett usually kept hidden out of sight in the rooms that no one ever ventured into. They were mostly landscapes, depicting pretty scenes of plantation life and rolling golden fields which Scarlett had deemed too old and out dated for her new home.

That they were all a little lacking in true artistry was, for once, all to their credit, for their undemanding, gentle nature would be sure to appeal to their guests this evening, all of whom were known to greatly favour sentiment over style.

On his way past the second floor corridor, Rhett noticed a vase on the windowsill that had been overlooked by the servants. White and blue in design, by Scarlett's tastes it was positively demure, and that was doubtless why no one had thought to move it. Larger than traditional ornaments and costing more than most people earned in six months of tireless work though, it was bound to catch the Old Cat's attention and set their noses twitching in disapproval.

Picking it up, Rhett moved along the corridor and deposited it safely in the first room that he came to, an unfurnished space that was currently being used to house the dresses that Scarlett no longer wore. A room that, unbeknownst to his wife, had been missing one very special dress for just under a fortnight.

Smiling to himself, Rhett shut the door behind him and headed back up the stairs, almost tripping over two crouching figures and one great, big, hulking form as he reached the top.

'What the hell-' He cried out in shock, grabbing onto the banister to prevent himself from falling. Around him the thunderous barks of Wade's Saint Bernard, barely five months old and already the size of a small elephant, reverberated throughout the entire house as his red-faced owner tried frantically to quieten him.

'Shh, Charlie. Stop it. Stop. Stop it!' Wade cried, petting and pulling the dog until it finally consented to sit back down and cease its noise.

He did not know quite what had prompted his wife to purchase such a beast for her son. She had seemed half possessed in those last few days of their honeymoon, tearing frantically around New Orleans, her mind set on finding the most extravagant, impractical gifts that the city had on offer.

He had assumed at first that it had merely been a means of showing off, a way for her to laud her new found wealth over others by showering them with ridiculous, expensive presents. It wasn't until they had returned, and he had seen the children's ecstatic reactions, however, that he had begun to wonder if there wasn't some mofe sentimental meaning behind her actions.

Neither the puppy nor Ella's kitten (now grown up into a slim and rather spoilt cat who reminded him faintly of Scarlett in the way it was wont to drape itself all over you when it felt like being petted, but would happily try to bite your finger clean off if you dared to touch it without an invitation) were exactly rational gifts, for both were likely to cause substantial mess and damage in her proposed new house. Given how fanatic she had been about ensuring the house be perfect in every way, Rhett was inclined to view the pets as one of the only truly selfless acts that Scarlett had ever committed, a rare example of her putting the children's happiness before her own.

As much as he admired her for the gesture though, after falling over the infernal thing and almost breaking his neck, Rhett could not help wishing that she hadn't just bought them both back a box of sweets instead.

'What are you two doing lurking around on the stairs?' Rhett asked, pushing Charlie away when the dog jumped up on his back legs and attempted to lick his face.

'We were just playing, Uncle Rhett.' Wade said, his wavering gaze instantly giving away the lie.

'Playing on the stairs? When you have a whole nursery full of toys waiting only two floors below?'

Blushing, Wade dropped his head and started fiddling with Charlie's collar by way of distraction. 'We just wanted to see what was going on, sir.'

Rhett sighed, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair. 'Did you now? Well, if you'll agree to play quietly in the nursery until I've finished laying everything out, I promise that I'll come and show you both around the ballroom.'

'Promise?' Said Ella, her pale eyes lighting up with excitement as she bounced up and down precariously on the top step.

'I promise.' Rhett swore solemnly, setting out a hand to steady her. He was already behind schedule as it was, and the last thing he needed was for Ella, accident prone enough at the best of times, to fall down the stairs and set him back even further. 'In fact, if you ask Mammy to change you into your favourite dress, I might even be persuaded to give you a quick spin around the dance floor before your mother gets home.'

Giggling, Ella nodded eagerly and set off down the stairs in search of Mammy. Rhett smiled as he watched her go, pleased by the changes that had taken place in the young girl over the last few weeks. His plan to have the four of them spend more time together as a family had worked out surprisingly well. There had been no major arguments this far, and both children were visibly happier as a result of receiving more attention from their mother. Wade was blossoming into a more confident boy, while Ella had lost some of her characteristic flightiness and was now able to concentrate on one topic for more than just a few minutes at a time.

He was not the only one to notice these changes either, Scarlett herself had also remarked upon them, telling him late one night as they talked together in bed that she was beginning to find it easier to spend time with them without feeling frustrated or awkward.

It had not been an easy thing for her to admit, and Rhett was truly touched that she trusted him enough now to make such confessions.

'Uncle Rhett?'

Drawn out of his musings by a small, hopeful voice, Rhett refocused his attentions on the boy in front of him.

'Yes, Wade?'

'If I dress up smart and promise to be good, do you think I might be allowed to come to the party tonight? After all, it's my birthday next week and I'm going to be ever so old.'

Pressing his fingers to his chin, Rhett furrowed his brow and pretended to ponder the request. 'Hmm, and what age will you be next week?'

'Seven, sir.' He declared proudly, arching his back and puffing out his chest in a bid to look bigger.

Biting his bottom lip to stop himself from chuckling, Rhett nodded sagely. 'Seven certainly is very grown up indeed.' Bending down, he clasped Wade by the shoulder and stared straight into his earnest eyes. 'Tell you what, young man, I can't promise that you'll be allowed to stay up for the party, it probably won't begin until long past your average almost seven year old's bedtime, but, as long as you remain on your best behaviour, I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to stand at the door and greet the guests as they arrive.'

Wade smiled widely and patted Rhett clumsily on the shoulder in return. 'Thank you, sir. I won't let you down.'

'I know you won't, Wade.' He said, standing back up and wincing when his knee gave a mighty click.

Halfway across the landing, Rhett stopped at the sound of his name and turned back around.

'What is it now, Wade?'

'Charlie wants to know if he can help out, too.'

Rhett snorted. 'The only way Charlie can help out is by keeping himself locked up in your room all night.'

On seeing the boy's face fall, however, he soon softened his stance. 'We'll see. Maybe if Charlie promises to be very, _very_ good, he can help you to greet the guests.'

With a whoop of excitement, Wade and his bear of a dog took off down the stairs, leaving Rhett to shake his head upon the landing and wonder where exactly it had all gone wrong. Not too long ago, grown men had been known to quake like new born babes in his presence, and now even young children were capable of wrapping him firmly around their little fingers.

It was all Scarlett's fault, he decided ruefully. It seemed that you could not fall in love with a woman without coming to love her children, too.

His thoughts turning inevitably back to his wife, he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time, wondering where she was now.

 _Half past twelve_.

He sighed heavily and replaced the watch in his breast pocket. She was bound to be at the mill by now. He wished that he had been able to think of some other way to keep her out of the house long enough for him to set everything up. At heart though, he knew that this had been the only solution. Only the prospect of seeing Ashley after such a long separation would have been enough to persuade her to stay away on the day of her precious crush.

As he made his way into the ballroom and set about applying the finishing touches to the room, he could not help but imagine what the two of them were doing together. In his mind, Melanie was no where to be found, perhaps having been called home on some Beau-related emergency, or having returned to the carriage after realising she'd left her shawl inside. Without her presence to hold them back, he watched as Scarlett and Ashley's eyes met across the floor of his office. He winced at the emotion on both their faces and ran a heavy hand across his face as he pictured them running gleefully into each other's arms, heads tilting at the perfect angle to allow their lips to meet in a hungry, delirious kiss.

Pulling the chair in his hand too roughly so that it scraped against the marble floor with an ugly, ear-splitting screech, Rhett shook his head vigorously in an attempt to dislodge such unpleasant thoughts.

It was senseless to torture himself in this way, Melanie would be there with them the entire time, and Rhett was certain that the books would be in such bad shape by now that it would take Scarlett many hours, if not entire days, of diligent work to set them straight.

If there was one thing his wife loved more than Ashley, it was her businesses, and he knew she would not rest, nor waste time ogling her beloved, until she had them running smoothly once more.

Given such restrictions, it was unlikely that anything of any significance would occur, and yet still he worried. He had come too far with Scarlett to concede defeat. If he had loved her before their marriage, it was as nothing to how he felt about her now. Now he knew just how wondrous it felt to hold her in his arms at night, to fall asleep to the sound of her soft snores and awaken to the smell of lemon verbena and rumpled, well-used sheets.

Now he knew how she smiled when she thought no one was looking, how she laughed and jerked when he stroked the backs of her knees, and how she panted his name in hoarse sounding sobs when he brought her to the brink of release.

It was precisely because he knew these things, that he would never be able to let her go again. Especially not if she were to run straight into the arms of an undeserving clod of a man who wouldn't know how to satisfy her even if Rhett gave him a book of detailed instructions on the subject.

Suppressing the urge to drive straight out to the mill and bring her back, Rhett stepped back and studied the ballroom one last time, something close to pride settling lightly in his chest as he admired how his handiwork had transformed the previously empty, cavernous space into something truly beautiful.

He knew it would be a touch too plain for Scarlett's tastes, just as he knew that it was this very simplicity which would earn them the reluctant admiration and respect of their guests.

Nodding his head in approval, he left the room bound for the nursery, almost falling down the stairs for a second time that day when he caught sight of the the fiery-eyed, grim-faced woman storming up the steps to confront him.

LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-LIL-

It was fair to say that Scarlett Butler was not having a good day. Any lingering contentment she might have felt in the aftermath of her husband's early morning attentions had been swiftly extinguished when nothing for the crush turned up on time. By quarter past ten, not so much as a chair leg had made an appearance in the driveway, and Scarlett had been close to pulling her hair out by the roots.

With the help of Rhett, who had promised to stay back in case anything did end up arriving, she had headed off to town to start confronting the tradespeople to whom the notions of professionalism and time-keeping apparently meant nothing.

Rhett had suggested she start at the dressmakers as she could easily collect the dress herself and fit it inside the carriage before heading off to berate all the other shop keepers. When she'd arrived though, not only had the dressmaker not had her order to hand, he'd informed Scarlett that there had been a terrible accident the previous night that had left her dress in tatters.

She hadn't even been granted the satisfaction of telling the incompetent fool exactly what she thought of him and his poxy, miserable little establishment, as, at the very moment she'd been gearing up to start yelling, Melanie Wilkes had entered the shop, her wholesome face creasing up in worry as she'd rushed to tell Scarlett how urgently her presence was needed at Ashley's mill.

Too irritated to find any true joy at the thought of seeing Ashley, Scarlett had allowed Melly to direct her back into the carriage with poor grace, her thoughts whirling even as she'd nodded absentmindedly along to Melly's flustered talk.

A dark suspicion that had begun to creep into her head sometime around a minute past ten this morning was now slowly becoming a horrible certainty. There must have been a conspiracy against her. It was the only possible explanation. All those strange comments and guilty looks she'd received from the retailers this last month, along with all the many mistakes they'd made to her orders, were suddenly beginning to make a dreadful kind of sense. They were jealous of her. They hated that a woman had flourished in a business sector where they themselves were struggling to make ends meet. They despised her wealth and they had conspired together to humiliate her by derailing her much loved crush.

They had never intended to deliver her orders, had probably never even started to make them in the first place. Instead they had spent the month leading her a merry dance, keeping her off the scent by distracting her with botched order after botched order, eating up her time so that she wouldn't come to discover their true intentions until it was too late.

Well, they'd played a good game, she'd give them that, but they hadn't beaten her yet. The crush wouldn't start until late this evening and she still had time left in which to save it. Or, at least she would have if Melanie wasn't currently dragging her out to visit the mill.

At this thought, she leapt up from her seat, ignoring how Melly startled like a new born foal at her sudden action, and started pounding on the carriage wall until Pork shuddered to a sharp stop.

Too impatient to wait for him to come around and open the door, she poked her head out of the window and directed him briskly. 'Turn the carriage around, Pork. I need to go home right away.'

Behind her, she felt Melly starting to fidget nervously in her seat. 'Oh, Scarlett. Could you not just come to the mill for a few minutes? Ashley is in ever such great need of your assistance. I know he feels terrible for having to ask, but he'd appreciate it ever so much if you were to pay him a visit. I'm sure it won't take long-'

Growing weary of Melanie's breathy babbling, Scarlett frowned and shook her head decisively. They were already a good three quarters of the way there, but it made no difference. She had to go back. 'No. I'm sorry, but I need to go home right away. There's far too much that needs doing before tonight for me to visit the mill right now. I wasn't thinking clearly when I ran into you earlier, or I'd never have agreed to come in the first place.'

'But, Scarlett-'

'But nothing, Melly. I'll come out first thing tomorrow if it makes you feel better, but I can't visit today. I don't have the time.' Turning back to fix her servant with a steely gaze, she said clearly in a voice that brooked no argument. 'Take us home, Pork.'

The best part of an hour later, having dropped an upset looking Melanie back at her house and successfully rebuffed her many invitations to come in for tea, Scarlett finally returned home, hardly waiting for the carriage to pull to a stop before jumping out and marching up the driveway to the front door.

She did not know what she had been expecting to see upon entering the hallway, although she had been holding out a small hope that the deliveries would have miraculously turned up after all, but it certainly wasn't this.

Boxes of ugly old lanterns covered the floor, while the rest of the space had been stripped of everything save the coat stand and the heavyset chest of drawers over in the far corner.

More galling still, all her lovely pictures and mirrors, so elegant with their charming, fancy frames, had disappeared from the walls, replaced instead by the stuffy old landscapes that she'd inherited through the years and always not-so-secretly despised.

Why they should be displayed openly after months of being hung up out of sight, she had no clue. Catching sight of Mammy coming down the stairs, she squared her shoulders and hurried over.

'Who did this?' She demanded, her sudden appearance making her old servant jump in surprise.

'Who dun what?' She asked in an all too innocent sounding voice. Scarlett narrowed her eyes at her servant's tone, Mammy was many things, but innocent definitely wasn't one of them. Besides, a person couldn't so much as sneeze in this house without her knowing about it, and she honestly expected Scarlett to believe that the entire downstairs had been redecorated without her knowledge? Not likely.

Suspicions rising, Scarlett fixed her with the same look that had so quelled Pork less than an hour ago and slowly repeated the question. 'Who did this?'

Mammy was not to be so easily cowed though. She was made of far tougher stuff than her father's old manservant, her face remaining as blank and unperturbed as ever as she silently stared Scarlett down.

There was something in her defiant look, however, that managed to tell Scarlett everything she needed to know. Her face scrunching up into a withering scowl, she felt her temper, at a constant boiling point since this morning, finally rise up and bubble over.

'Rhett.' She uttered in a low growl, her face mutinous.

Not waiting for Mammy to confirm or deny her suspicion, Scarlett stormed past her servant and up the stairs, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as she caught sight of him strolling casually down to meet her.

 _The crush will (finally) begin next chapter, I pinky promise! I received a few comments last time asking when this story will end. To be honest, I'm not too sure. Let me know if you'd prefer it to finish after the crush, when Scarlett tells Rhett she's pregnant, or later. Totally up to you guys, I wouldn't want to keep going if people are growing tired of this story. Thanks for reading._


	20. Chapter 20

_Thanks to everyone who commented about the ending of this story, I'll definitely be taking it up to somewhere around Bonnie's birth now. A pinky promise is not something to be sniffed at, so the crush does start towards the end of this chapter. Kinda. In my defence, I was asked to include a Rhett/Ella moment and it was such a sweet idea that I couldn't resist. If you have something you really want to see, let me know, I can't promise they'll be room for everything, but I'm totally open to suggestions, especially if they're better than what I originally had planned!_

* * *

'Scar-'

Rhett didn't even manage to get her name out before she was upon him. 'What have you done to the hallway?' She cried, craning her neck up to glare at him. 'Why have you moved all our things? And put up those horrible old paintings?'

Rather than getting an answer though, Scarlett scowled as Rhett moved forward and took a firm grip of her elbow, all but dragging her down the stairs and across the corridor to their bedroom. 'I won't discuss this here.'

Once they'd reached the privacy of their room, Scarlett angrily shrugged off Rhett's hold, waiting impatiently for him to shut the door behind them before piercing him with an expectant glare.

'Well?'

Instead of looking guilty, however, Rhett simply sighed and lent back against the door in an almost exasperated fashion. 'I assume you've noticed that none of the orders you placed have actually arrived?'

Feeling herself grow hot, Scarlett blinked and lowered her gaze, unwilling to let him see how the retailers' conspiracy had hurt her. 'I had,' she managed to grit out eventually.

'Shortly after you left, I headed into town myself. A few well placed inquiries were enough to inform me that we shouldn't be expecting anything to arrive this afternoon, either. It seems that the good tradespeople of this town have been playing a rather cruel joke on us, my pet.'

Fidgeting with her dress, Scarlett refused to meet his eye. It was bad enough thinking such things herself, having to listen to Rhett so baldly confirm her fears only made her feel a hundred times worse about the situation.

Hearing a faint rustling noise, she glanced up only to regret her hasty action when she saw that Rhett had moved to stand directly in front of her. Cupping his palm tenderly beneath her chin, he gently tilted her head up until their eyes met. She had been expecting to see mirth in his dark eyes, for him to laugh at her predicament and relish the chance to say 'I told you so'. After all, he did so love to be right.

Looking at him though, she saw no joy in his expression, only a silent apology. What Rhett had to apologise for though, she had no clue. It was not his fault that the shop keepers had plotted against her. Feeling a wave of tenderness wash over her at his show of sorrow, Scarlett smiled slightly and felt some of the tension seep out of her body. Relaxing in his hold, she exhaled heavily. 'I know. They're all horrible.'

Rhett chuckled and stroked along the length of her cheek softly. 'That they are, my pet. That they are.'

'You know, the man at the dressmakers' even tried to tell me they'd had an accident in the night and that my dress had been ruined before they could send it out this morning. As if I'd fall for something like that! If it were true, he'd have been around first thing to apologise.'

'Undoubtedly. Although, knowing your temper, you can hardly blame the man if he did choose to stay away.'

Annoyed by his jest, Scarlett tried to escape his arms, but he effortlessly pulled her back and tightened his hold. 'Hush, Scarlett. I'm only teasing. They've played a nasty trick, and the way I see it, we have two possible options. Either we accept the hit and let them ruin our crush,' he paused to smile fondly at her snort of derision. 'Or, we can throw all our efforts into hosting the finest damn party this city has ever seen and show those conniving old fools just how little their farcical charade has dented our morale.'

Scarlett felt her flagging spirits reawaken as she listened to his rousing speech, and silently thanked God for marrying her to a man as strong as Rhett. Where other, lesser husbands would surely have conceded defeat, or sat around impotently lamenting the demise of their well-laid plans, Rhett pulled himself together and flat out refused to be beaten. It was so lovely to feel like she no longer had to fight all her battles alone, that here at last, was someone willing and able to stand alongside her and match her strength for strength.

Basking in the warm glow of such pleasant thoughts, it took Scarlett a few minutes to remember that she was still angry at Rhett. Once she'd regathered herself though, she wasted no time in yanking herself out of his embrace.

'That doesn't explain why you've dismantled the entire hallway, Rhett. Or, why you've hung up those ugly old pictures.'

'You're right, my dear. It doesn't. Just like the dressmaker not having your order doesn't explain why you've come back here so early. Surely, you can't have visited all the stores so quickly?'

Sidetracked by his unexpected question, Scarlett blinked. 'What? Oh, no, I ran into Melly and she asked me to go with her to the mill. She said Ashley was having a problem with the books and needed my help.'

'It must have been a very small problem for you to have been able to fix it so speedily.'

She shook her head. 'I didn't.'

'Didn't fix it? That's not like you.'

Preening slightly at Rhett's unexpected compliment, Scarlett explained. 'No, I didn't go to the mill. We were half way there when I realised I didn't have time to deal with it today. I told Melly I'd go out tomorrow instead.'

Raising his eyebrows, Rhett studied her speculatively. 'I'm surprised, you don't usually turn down a chance to see the honourable Mr. Wilkes.'

Bristling at the underlying bitterness in Rhett's tone, Scarlett stiffened, assuming he was criticising her for not going. 'I have enough problems of my own today, Rhett. I don't have time to run around solving everyone else's for them, as well. Ashley will just have to stand on his own two feet for a change.'

The heat that rose in Rhett's eyes as she spoke confused Scarlett, but the kiss that followed was only too easy to understand. There was a hunger in the way Rhett reached out and jerked her towards him, a fire in the way he pressed their bodies so tightly together, and an almost desperate passion in the way he moved his mouth against hers.

When he parted her lips and slid his tongue inside to tangle and twist with her own, Scarlett's breath caught and she slumped against him bonelessly.

God, she couldn't think when he kissed her like this, couldn't form one single, solitary thought even if someone paid her. He was too much, his mouth was so warm and demanding, his hands everywhere. He seemed as though he would devour her, and a large part of her wanted nothing more than to lay back and let him.

Only when he broke the kiss to move his mouth down along her jaw to her neck, did Scarlett remember her earlier ire.

'Rhett. Rhett, stop. Stop it!' She protested, tugging herself out of his grip. Oh, he was such a tricky devil, always trying to outmanoeuvre her and side step his way out of trouble. He was forever answering questions with questions and using her own body against her to make her forget her train of thought. And to think she'd almost let him get away with it! Well, not this time. 'Why did you move the pictures?'

Flushed, Rhett moved his fingers along swollen lips before nodding reluctantly and squaring his stance. 'There may have been a slight change of plan.'

'Change of plan.' Scarlett echoed lowly, her face ominous.

'Yes. In light of our missing decorations, I decided to change the theme of the crush to one that better befitted our more simplistic decor. I called in a few favours from some of my old acquaintances, managed to get us a enough supplies to be getting along with.'

'What's the new theme?' Scarlett asked caustically, remembering the dusty boxes of lanterns in the hall. 'Old tat that no one wants?'

Rather than looking offended, Rhett threw back his head and laughed loudly, his arms snaking out to wrap her back up. 'My dear, you never fail to amuse me. And to think that I feared marriage would be dull! How wrong can a man be?' Bending down so that their eyes aligned, he shook his head. 'No, as enchantingly novel as it sounds, unwanted old tat wasn't quite the ambiance I was aiming to project. I thought instead we could make the lack of fancy decorations into a theme, play off of it so that it appears deliberate. The Old Guard will love it, it'll be a welcome return to those halcyon days of mid-war frugality. I've strung up a confederate flag in the ballroom and hired a couple of fiddlers to lead the dancing; they'll be so enraptured by the chance to relive the glory days of the Old South, they won't notice the plain decor. In fact, they'll prefer it.'

While part of her understood, and even admired, Rhett's cunning idea, Scarlett still felt her heart rebel at the realisation that he intended for the crush to be far less grand than the one she'd been so eagerly anticipating. She didn't care if the Old Guard preferred simplicity. She wanted every inch of her precious house to be draped in finery, wanted to look on proudly as the guests gasped and gawped with wide-eyed amazement at the beauty of their surroundings.

Squaring her jaw, she looked up at Rhett with narrowed eyes. 'I don't care what they'd prefer. It's my crush, Rhett, and I want it done my way.'

'I know you do, my dear, but given the events of this morning, I'm afraid that just isn't possible. I promise, the next party we hold will be done exactly to your specifications. Money will be no object. You shall have whatever your heart desires and more. But, for now, will you trust me to organise the best party I can given our severely reduced resources?'

Stubbornly, Scarlett held out for as long as she could before reluctantly nodding. Turning her head, she inwardly raged at her powerlessness. She despised not being in control, having long ago sworn that she would never find herself in such a situation ever again. She was supposed to be in charge now, marriage to Rhett was supposed to have elevated her above the fickle fortunes of fate, providing her with enough money to finally become the mistress of her own destiny.

Yet, it seemed that even his considerable bank balance was not enough to save them now. She had no choice but to go along with his hastily constructed plan, to allow her darling crush to suffer as a result of the underhand schemings of a ragtag band of retailers whose wealth, even when added together, dwarfed considerably in comparison theirs.

It was all so unfair, and yet there was nothing she could do to change it. Sighing heavily, she felt her shoulders slump in defeat and bristled as Rhett reached out and cupped her chin in his hand.

'I know your mightily disappointed, my pet, but don't torture yourself by dwelling on it any longer. Just think about the magnificent crushes we'll hold in the future. Forget the Old Guard with their stuffy ways, we'll invite your new friends to our future gatherings instead. I'm sure Mamie Bart and company will appreciate your efforts far more anyway.'

Shrinking away slightly at the thought of her new set, none of whom she had seen since overhearing that scandalous conversation in the parlour, Scarlett nodded, her mind already fixing upon the idea of her next crush. After the bitter disappointment of this one, she would just have to throw all her efforts into ensuring that the next would be nothing short of spectacular.

Her head already beginning to form plans, Scarlett smiled thinly but genuinely, and stepped back. 'I'd better go and ask Mammy to draw me a bath, I need to start getting ready for this evening.'

'Yes, and I suppose I should really go and sort out all that old tat in the hallway.' Rhett said, grinning wryly.

Feeling an answering smile sneak across her cheeks, Scarlett sighed and let the last of the morning's tension slip silently away. Maybe, with Rhett by her side, tonight wouldn't end up being a complete disaster after all.

-LIL-

Hours later, bathed and perfumed within an inch of her life, her hair expertly curled and coiffed, and with her face subtly made up, Scarlett sat back and eyed herself admiringly in the dressing table mirror.

She looked lovely even by her own high standards, her cheeks attractively rosy and her eyes alight with anticipation. For all the setbacks, the crush was still a moment of great pride for her, a sign of how far she had come since that dark day in Twelve Oaks when she'd furiously beat the earth and declared she would never be hungry again. It was a mark of just how well she had kept her promise not to let her spirit be broken in spite of overwhelming odds. A promise that, given their current circumstances, could not have felt more fitting.

If someone had told her then that one day she would be sitting here, wrapped in a silken dressing gown that had cost a small fortune, inside a house that was worth a far larger one, she would have never dared to believe it was true. It had been an exhausting, uphill battle to reach this moment, and she was determined not to let the petty jealousies of a few, no-name shop keepers prevent her from enjoying it to the fullest.

Giving herself one last admiring look, Scarlet rose and headed over to her wardrobe, calling out for Mammy to come and dress her as she went.

She hadn't yet decided which outfit she should wear for the party, a stone settling heavily in her stomach every time she thought of the beautiful, bejewelled dress that she had planned to wear and now would never even get to see.

Of all the losses she'd sustained this morning, that one cut her the deepest. It was crucial that she look her best tonight, that she draw everyone's eye and be thought of as the most enchanting woman in the room.

As she walked down the length of her wardrobe though, she couldn't find anything quite capable of creating that effect. Of course, there were many glamorous dresses here, most bought for her by Rhett during the first, giddy flushes of married life, yet, none of them seemed exactly right for an occasion such as this.

'Miss Scarlett.'

Not having heard Mammy's approach, Scarlett jumped and cried out in surprise when she heard her old servant's voice, scowling to cover her embarrassment as she caught sight of her hovering just outside the wardrobe door.

'Ah's got yo' dress.'

'My dress?' She parroted obliviously, walking over to meet her.

'Yes'm, Mist' Rhett dun give it ter me dis mawning.'

'Rhett? Rhett gave you a dress for me this morning? Where is it?'

Stepping aside, Mammy pointed over to the bed upon which lay an all too familiar, and yet completely new, dress. Stunned, Scarlett walked over and ran her hand along the well-known fabric, marvelling at the intricate work which had been done to patch up and alter it into something updated and beautiful.

Her eyes still fixed upon the material beneath her hands, she questioned Mammy. 'When? When did he give you this?'

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mammy wave her arm dismissively. 'Ah done told you, dis mawning. Miss Scarlett, Ah gwine need ter get you dressed now.'

'In a minute, Mammy. When this morning?'

'Ah dunno, after you dun go ter town.'

'Did he say anything when he handed it over?'

Even with her back turned, Scarlett swore she could feel her servant rolling her eyes. 'Yes'm, Mist' Rhett dun say, 'Dis is fer Miss Scarlett'. Ah doan know why yo' actin' so funny, he dun a nice thing gettin' it dun up fer you.'

'Yes. Yes, he did.' Scarlett said, too flustered to really register that Mammy had just paid Rhett his first ever compliment.

No doubt taking her agreement as a sign of compliance, Mammy wasted no time in stepping forward and beginning the long process of getting her ready.

Standing there silently, Scarlett wondered what on earth Rhett was up to. Had he planned for her to wear this to the crush all along, or had he had the alterations made weeks ago and decided that, in light of her undelivered dress, this would make the perfect substitute?

If he'd had it done before though, then why wouldn't he have told her about it? And, if he'd always intended for her to wear it tonight, then why had he let her order such an expensive one from the dressmakers'? None of it made any sense, the sight of the altered dress having thrown her completely, scattering her thoughts and making it impossible to fix upon a single explanation.

Wanting to speak to her husband about it as soon as possible, Scarlett tapped her foot against the floor with poorly concealed impatience as she waited for Mammy to finish dressing her, a nostalgic, bittersweet shiver running through her when her servant lifted the dress over her head and smoothed it down along her body.

'How do I look?' Scarlett asked, peering round Mammy to look in the dressing table mirror. Twisting her hips to better see herself from every angle, Scarlett's lips curled upwards in a self-satisfied smirk. If she had looked attractive the first time she'd worn this dress, then it was nothing compared to how good she looked now. The intervening years had added a womanly maturity to her once girlish body, rounder curves now filling out places that had once lain flatter, and making hers a figure that was truly capable of turning heads and slackening jaws.

So caught up in admiring herself was she, that Scarlett almost didn't hear Mammy's answer, only tearing her eyes away from her reflection when she heard her mother's name.

'You look perfect, mah lam'. Miss Ellen would be mighty proud.'

Surprised by the depth of feeling in Mammy's words and expression, Scarlett felt her eyes grow hot and itchy and cleared her throat roughly before nodding. 'Thank you, Mammy. You can go now. I'll see to the rest myself.'

Waiting until Mammy had left the room, Scarlett ran a quick hand across her eyes -careful not to displace her delicately applied rogue in the process- before scolding herself for her silliness and hastening to finish getting dressed.

Shoes on, and with one last dash of lemon verbena scent applied, Scarlett hurried from the room in search of Rhett.

The corridors were alight with impeccably dressed, yet decidedly harried looking, servants when she stepped out of the oasis of her room, and Scarlett almost ended up careening straight into Pork when she turned to go down the stairs.

'Sorry, Miss Scarlett.' He apologised, lowering his head demurely.

Too preoccupied to notice, Scarlett questioned him sharply. 'Do you know where Rhett is?'

He nodded. 'Yes'm, he's with Master Wade and Miss Ella in de ballroom.'

Without a word, she spun around on her heel, annoyed that the children were still up and about when they should have been confined to the nursery hours ago. This evening was going to be enough of a struggle as it was without having to worry about them running around getting under the guests' feet.

This new complication, coupled with the questions regarding the dress, had Scarlett marching straight up to the ballroom doors. Drawing up short, she made to fling them open before the opened the unexpected sight that greeted her stopped her dead in her tracks.

Since moving into the house, she had only visited the ballroom a handful of times. In daylight, the vast, empty space looked suitably imposing, but oddly uninviting, something about its very largeness seeming to intimidate rather than impress. Now though, as the late afternoon gave way to the murky darkness of twilight and cast the rest of the house in a mournful gloom, it was utterly transformed into one of the most magical places she had ever seen.

The dancefloor, usually cleaned only once a week, had been scrubbed until it gleamed. Circular tables covered in fine white cloth and ringed by gold framed chairs lined the room, their bouquets of deep pink peonies, delicate daisies, and charming, multicoloured sweet peas first drawing the eye, then delighting it.

Best of all, someone -most likely Rhett- had had the four gigantic chandeliers lowered down from the high ceiling, so that they hung suspended only a few feet above head level. The effect was nothing short of mesmerising. The candlelight flowed warmly throughout the room, making even the largest of spaces feel somehow cosy and intimate. The flames flickered over the chandeliers' large, crystal droplets, sending sparkles of pure light dancing across the walls and ceiling.

It was so beautiful that Scarlett felt almost entranced by its effect, barely noticing the figures in the room until two of them approached the chandelier nearest to her.

'Shiny!' Ella marvelled, Scarlett watching as her daughter squirmed from her place atop Rhett's shoulders until she was able to reach out a hand and grasp one of the hanging droplets in her chubby palm.

Her husband's fond laughter floated across the space between them and made Scarlett shiver where she stood. He had changed since she'd last seen him, and his new look did strange, exciting things to her insides. Her eyes grew darker as she took him in, admiring the way his long body rose up majestically from a classic black suit, his hair styled so immaculately that she had a mad urge to rush forward and mess it up with her hands, to run her fingers through it over and over again until he looked as ruffled and debauched as she currently felt.

As she watched, he turned his head sharply in her direction, and for a panicked moment she thought that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, before his next word quelled her sudden fear. 'Wade,' he called out, Scarlett's eyes following his gaze until they came to rest upon the boy standing nervously over in the far corner, his small hands wrapped firmly around his dog's collar.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes as she took in the beast, regretting the day she'd been foolish enough to buy it, and violently cursing the breeder who had been too cunning to tell her just how big the innocent looking puppy in his arms was likely to grow. The thing was a menace, bounding around her precious house with his enormous, thundering paws, banging into furniture and sending ridiculously expensive ornaments crashing to the ground.

Often, she had considered getting rid of the animal, but had never quite been able to bring herself to do it. For all the chaos he unwittingly created, Charlie made Wade happier than anything else in this world, and she couldn't face the endless crying and betrayed looks that were bound to follow if she ever did decide to sell him on.

'It's alright, Wade.' Rhett called, his deep voice breaking through her reverie. 'You can walk around the floor, just be sure to keep hold of Charlie so he doesn't disturb anything. We wouldn't want to spoil the effect before your mother has had a chance to see it.'

As Wade started off on a cautious lap around the room, dog faithfully in tow, Scarlett watched as Rhett turned back to the excitable young girl on his shoulders and lifted her back down to the floor.

'Can we dance now, Uncle Rhett?' She asked breathily, her cheeks aflame with nervous excitement.

'Why, of course we can, my darling.' Rhett declared, sweeping down into a ridiculously low bow that had Ella giggling and squirming shyly on the spot. 'You look so charming in your dress that it would be an absolute crime for me to refuse.'

Looking at her anew, Scarlett realised her daughter had dressed up in one of the fancy outfits Rhett had brought her back from his last trip to New Orleans. Even Scarlett, usually her daughter's harshest critic, had to grudging admit that she looked unusually fetching, her face, with its rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, being framed by a halo of hair that flashed the colour of spun gold under the warm light of the chandeliers.

Scarlett felt a strange mix of pride and envy as she watched her daughter, almost wishing she could step in and take her place as Rhett held out his hand and asked in his most courteous and gentlemanly of voices, 'My dear Miss. Ella Lorena, would you be so kind as to do me the very great honour of accepting my hand for this next dance?'

Waiting patiently while she finished giggling to herself, Rhett winked at Ella cheekily when she finally reached out and placed her tiny hands in his much larger ones.

Bending at the knee, he walked her through some simple steps, offering no word of criticism when her ungainly feet routinely stumbled over the flat surface, or stomped where Scarlett's would have glided. From her place behind the door, Scarlett felt her feet twitch beneath her skirts, unconsciously mimicking the movements of the dancing pair.

She was sure that she hadn't made a sound, but almost immediately Rhett's eyes flew up to meet hers, his already softened features slackening further still as he took her in.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, Scarlett blushed before realising he wasn't looking at her, but rather at her dress. Palming the emerald fabric nervously, she looked back at him, feeling the years fall effortlessly away either side of her as she grew lost in the dark, desiring glint in his eyes.

So much had changed since she had first seen him, and yet still the effect he had on her remained exactly the same.

She watched silently as he twirled a gleeful Ella around the floor, picking her up when she almost toppled over and spinning her in his arms until she laughed drunkenly and shrieked at him to stop.

Gazes locked, Scarlett watched as he leant down and whispered something in Ella's ear, his eyes never leaving hers. A warm shiver ran through her as he bent to place Ella back on the ground, his hand extending towards Scarlett in a silent, but all too clear invitation.

She almost refused, thinking it the height of foolishness to dance in an empty ballroom without any music and with only her children and a dog to watch her. Something about Rhett's stare stopped her from speaking out though, and quickly she left her place in the doorway and hurried over to him.

'You look beautiful.' He murmured softly as he took her in his arms, holding her much too closely as always.

In a rare moment of feeling, she wanted to tell him that he looked handsome too, but feared that he would only laugh at her if she did. Instead, she smiled and placed her hand upon his shoulder, silently indicating that she was ready for him to begin dancing.

Shooting her a rakish smile, he obliged. Scarlett had hardly taken a step, however, before someone knocked loudly on the ballroom door.

Jumping away from Rhett in embarrassment, Scarlett turned to see a anxious-looking Pork. 'Mister Rhett, the guests are arriving.'

Eyes widening, Scarlett turned to her husband in shock. Surely, it couldn't be time already!

Misreading the reason behind her dismay, deliberately no doubt, Rhett placed a consoling hand upon her arm. 'Don't worry, my dear, a whole night of dancing lies before us. I intend to claim your hand many times before it is through.'

She opened her mouth to protest, but Rhett had already turned away, ordering Pork to make sure all the servants were in place before he quickly scooped up Ella and called for Wade to follow him.

As the four of them left the room, Scarlett cast one last look around the space before heading down after them, a fizzle of excitement passing through her as she entered the hallway and caught sight of the Merriweather clan ascending the porch steps.

There was still much she wanted to ask Rhett, the dress weighing heavily on her mind as well as her body, but for now at least it would have to wait. Slipping seamlessly into the role of the hostess that all Southrrn women were brought up to perform, Scarlett stepped forward to greet her guests.


	21. Chapter 21

An hour later and the party was in full swing, forty or so guests chattering away happily on the verandah, with more arriving every few minutes.

From his sentinel pot near the open door, Wade watched them as they laughed and drank freely in the evening air. Envious eyes followed the finely dressed men as they sauntered around in their fancy suits and shiny shoes, the young boy wishing that he too could be old enough to walk among their number. Watching them in all their finery, Wade raised a self-conscious hand to his own shirt and roughly brushed away the stray dog hairs and remnants of his supper that stubbornly lingered there.

Standing up straighter and shaking Charlie's collar until the dozing dog gave a mighty yawn and lumbered slowly back up onto his feet, Wade tried his best to look smart and grown up. He knew how important this party was to his mother, she had spoken of little else for weeks now, and he desperately did not want to let her down.

He'd been shaken by the sudden wave of shyness that had engulfed him when he'd first seen Mrs. Merriweather marching up the porch steps. The large-set lady had always scared him slightly, and spotting her formidable figure, he'd wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run back upstairs. The hard pat she'd delivered to his head in greeting, along with the sickly, flowery smell of her perfume had done nothing to ease his discomfort, and it was only the fear of disappointing his parents that had stopped him from feigning a stomach ache and hiding away in the nursery for the rest of the night.

He couldn't leave now though, not when they were counting on him to greet the guests as they appeared. His was a very important job, Uncle Rhett had said as much as they'd walked down together from the ballroom, his stepfather instructing him quietly on what he should say, how he should smile, and what he should do if people handed him their coats and housewarming gifts.

They were both relying on him and he was determined to get it right, even if all the hugs and kisses he kept receiving from the guests, some of whom he was sure he'd never even met before, were making him feel a little overwhelmed.

In a bid to distract himself from their too-wide smiles and loud, cooing voices, he had taken to looking over their shoulders as they bent low to speak to him, preferring to keep his eyes fixed firmly on the chain of lanterns that had been strung up across the beams of the porch roof instead. Focussing on them calmed him, for their warm, orange lights reminded him fondly of the glow that the fire flies made when they appeared down by the creek. Both he and Beau liked to watch them as they floated along drowsily in the balmy night air, always pleading with Mammy or Dilcey to let them stay out a little longer whenever the harried servants chased them down and demanded that they come in for bed.

Sighing softly to himself, Wade wished that Beau was here with him now, for he always felt braver when the younger boy was around. Staring solemnly down the street in the direction of his house, Wade narrowed his eyes against the rising darkness before grinning eagerly when he spotted his best friend's parents hurrying along the road, the slim pair skipping lightly around the jumble of carriages and buggies that were currently clogging up the normally quiet street.

He knew he was supposed to remain standing by the door, but at the welcome sight of his aunt, he couldn't help but take a few unconscious steps forward. If his mother was the smartest, prettiest woman in all the world, then his aunt was definitely the nicest. He knew she'd love to see him in his fancy clothes, that she would be mightily impressed by his role in the party, and he simply could not wait to see her reaction.

Casting a cautious glance around the porch, he sighed in relief when he saw that his parents were both too busy talking to notice if he were to temporarily abandon his post, Uncle Rhett being deep in conversation with a group of serious-looking, well-dressed men that he didn't know, and his mother laughing loudly at something Hugh Elsing had just said.

Taking advantage of their diverted attention, Wade took a firm hold of Charlie's collar and led him quickly through the maze of long legs and soft skirts that separated him from the arriving pair.

After stopping to say sorry to one rather red-faced, pained looking gentleman who'd just had the misfortune to have Charlie trod on his toes, Wade found himself breaking free of the crowd and coming out right in front of his aunt and uncle as they began to climb the stairs up to the verandah.

'Wade, darling!' Aunt Melly exclaimed, her whole face breaking out into a bright, blinding smile upon seeing him. 'Why, I almost didn't recognise you! You've turned into a young man over night. You look the very image of your father, doesn't he, Ashley?'

Blushing proudly at the comparison, Wade missed the response, his uncle's soft, slow voice failing to reach his ears over the background buzz of the other guests' constant chatter.

Before he'd had a chance to ask him to repeat himself, though, he was startled by the firm clap of a broad hand upon his shoulder. Twisting his neck around, he found himself gazing up at his stepfather, his strong, tanned face broken up by the white slash of his smile.

'Mr and Mrs Wilkes, how good it is to see you.' He said, his eyes and grin fixed solely upon Wade's aunt.

'I'm so sorry we're late.' She replied, her face flushing red in embarrassment. 'We were just about to leave when Beau decided that he couldn't bear for us to go. I hated to leave him when he was upset, but I didn't realise how long it would take me to settle him.'

Unnoticed by the adults, Wade's lips twitched up into a relieved smile. He felt much better about his earlier cowardly behaviour now that he knew how Beau had acted.

'Nonsense, there's no need to apologise. Scarlett will be overjoyed to see you. I saw her a mom -ah, yes, here she comes now.'

Feeling his stepfather move to the side, Wade tried to do the same, almost falling over Charlie in the process when the lazy dog refused to budge. Seconds later, a fresh, lemony smell filled the air and his mother swept elegantly into the space they'd just created for her, her green and white skirts continuing to sway gently from side to side long after she'd come to a stop.

Looking up at her, Wade didn't think he'd ever seen her look lovelier. She'd always been pretty, but sometimes she could be a bit scary too. Tonight though, she looked softer than usual, friendlier, and tentatively Wade reached out and grasped hold of her skirts, wanting to be near her.

'Ashley! Melly!' She cried, reaching out to clasp her friends' hands in greeting. 'Welcome to m... _our_ crush. I'm so glad you could come.'

'We wouldn't have missed it for the world. We've been looking forward to tonight for weeks, haven't we, Ashley?'

His uncle nodded, although Wade couldn't help thinking he looked a little pale and unwell as he stared at his mother, his throat bobbing a few times before he spoke, as if it had been a struggle to clear it. 'Yes, we have. It was very generous of you both to invite us.'

'The house looks simply beautiful.' Aunt Melly added, gazing around the porch in wonder. 'It's so clever what you've done with the lanterns, Scarlett. I'd never have thought of something like that.'

Beside him, Wade thought he heard his stepfather mutter something about them not being bad for old tat, but he couldn't be sure, being too busy dodging his mother's foot when it shot out from under her skirts and collided sharply with Uncle Rhett's shin.

He expected him to cry out in pain, but Uncle Rhett only chuckled, as if the blow was somehow funny. He didn't look amused though, his dark eyes clouding over with anger as his lips curled down into a furious frown. Shivering slightly, Wade stepped closer to his mother and tightened his hold on her dress protectively, suddenly fearful that his stepfather might try and hurt her back.

Following his stormy gaze, however, he realised with a flash of confusion that it wasn't his mother that he was glaring at, but rather Uncle Ashley. Silently, he watched with wide, uncomprehending eyes as his aunt carried on talking happily to his mother, not seeming to notice that she was too busy throwing glances at Uncle Ashley from under her lashes to listen properly. Rather than returning her gaze, however, he kept staring down at her dress like he'd seen a ghost, while in turn, Uncle Rhett scowled at him every bit as viciously as Great Uncle Peter had the fox he'd once found trying to climb into his chicken coop.

'Wade,' his stepfather said, his voice sounding flat and oddly strained. 'Would you be so good as to take the Wilkes' coats inside for them?'

As Aunty Melly moved to hand hers over, Uncle Ashley flinched and came back to himself, dropping his eyes quickly to the ground with a sheepish expression that only Wade's shorter height allowed him to see.

Not wanting to leave, but unable to ignore the request, Wade reluctantly took the heavy coats into his small arms, arching backwards to stop himself from overbalancing as he walked slowly towards the house.

The warmth of the hallway met him like a friendly embrace, and he relaxed into it happily. Passing a few servants in the corridor, all of whom stopped to speak to him despite looking impossibly busy, Wade found Mammy waiting for him by the parlour-cum-cloakroom, her arms already outstretched to relieve him of his load.

'Ah think dat it's time fer you to come in naw.' She said, as she set them down carefully with the rest.

'Not yet,' Wade pleaded. 'Please Mammy, Aunty Melly has only just arrived and I want to see her. Can I just have ten more minutes? I promise I'll come in then.'

Under the weight of Mammy's disapproving frown, Wade kept his head up and tried to look more confident than he really felt. After a few moments of tense silence, she finally huffed a put upon sigh and Wade grinned, knowing he'd won.

Turning to go, he flinched back as Mammy pinched his chin and angled his face up to the light. Scowling and muttering to herself, she licked the thumb of her free hand and started scrubbing it roughly across his cheek.

'Dese ladies wid dere rouge. Dis shameless. Miss Ellen never did wear none, no sur.'

Squirming, Wade tried to pull away, but Mammy's grip would not be broken. She rubbed at his cheek until it was spotless, grumbling away the entire time. Keen to return to the party, Wade made his escape as soon as she released him, all but running from the room, and pretending not to hear when she called out sharply after him. ' _Ten minutes an' den ah is comin' ter get you!_ '

Returning out onto the verandah, Wade looked around for both his aunt and his dog, but found that both had disappeared. Instead, he caught sight of his mother speaking to Uncle Ashley and headed over, hoping that they would be able to tell him where the pair had gotten to.

On reaching his mother though, he found that she was too busy to talk to him. When he reached up for her hand and made to speak, she hushed him and told him off for interrupting her. Chastised, he hung his head and waited silently for them to finish their conversation.

'I'm so glad that you could come tonight, Ashley.'

'As am I, Scarlett. It has been many years since I last had the opportunity to attend a gathering as refined as this.'

'Oh, Ashley. You are too honest to tease me like this, why, you must have been to hundreds of events finer than mine.'

'I can assure you, Scarlett, that I most certainly have not. The war has not been any kinder to Georgia's parties than it has to any of her other beloved traditions. I confess, shallow though it is, sometimes I miss the grand gatherings of our youth more than almost anything else from that time. There was a beauty to them, a sense of community and contentment which I have yet to experience since the day the we fired at the Yankee's on Fort Sumter. Although, here tonight, I feel the first glimmer of hope that those days aren't quite as dead and gone as I'd feared. Surely you, dressed as you are, must feel it too?'

'You noticed?'

'How could I not? Old as I am becoming, I shall never be able to forget how you looked that day.'

'Ashley-'

A large crash rang out suddenly, breaking off their conversation. The sound of shrill screams cut through the stillness of the late evening air before being drowned out by a thunderous volley of raucous barking. Spinning around, Wade winced in embarrassment as he finally solved the problem of where Charlie had run off to.

Across the porch, where once the drinks table had stood proud and orderly, there was now nothing but an upside down heap of splintered wood and broken glass. From the wreckage, a flood of champagne poured out across the wooden slats and began soaking into the bottoms of the nearby ladies' dresses. In the middle of all this chaos stood Charlie, eagerly licking up the spilled liquid, his bottom hoisted in the air and his tail wagging madly from side to side.

Even with his back to her, Wade could feel the heat of his mother's glare searing through his suit as she took in the scene of destruction, and felt himself grow uncomfortably hot, his throat constricting painfully as warm tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Before she could erupt, however, his stepfather appeared out of nowhere, effortlessly cutting a path through the tumult and coming to a stop beside the upended table.

'That'll teach me for buying foreign furniture.' He said good-humouredly, his deep voice carrying easily across the verandah and making the guests, all of whom had frozen at the commotion, slowly begin to thaw out again. 'If only the French were as skilled at carpentry as they are at making champagne! No matter, there are plenty more bottles inside, knowing that Uncle Henry and Grandpa Merriweather were planing to attend tonight, we made sure to stock up.'

A wave of laughter rippled out across the porch, growing louder when the two men in question gave out jeering roars of protest. The crowds' attention subtlety diverted, it took Wade a moment to realise that his stepfather had caught his eye and was gesturing for him to come over.

'I'm sorry, sir.' He said as soon as he reached him, wringing his hands in despair. He felt dreadful, all he had wanted was a chance to prove how responsible and helpful he could be, and instead he had ended up embarrassing his parents and ruining the party for everbody. He didn't know how they'd ever be able to forgive him.

'Don't trouble yourself, son.' He said consolingly. 'Accidents happen. Perhaps it might be best if you take your dog up to the nursery now, though. He seems to have drunk rather a lot of alcohol and we wouldn't want him to embarrass himself in front of the guests.'

Relieved not to be shouted at, and yet very much aware that his time helping out at the party was now over, Wade nodded despondently and went to collect Charlie, having to wrestle with the dog when he seemed reluctant to abandon the spilled liquid.

Wade kept his head down as he made his way inside and up the stairs, not wanting to bump into the servants and have to explain why he'd had to come in early. He kept a firm hand on Charlie's collar too, not letting the naturally inquisitive dog pull away until they'd reached the nursery and he'd shut the door securely behind them both.

Ella was already sleeping when he came in, her face flushed and her small mouth hanging wide open as she snored lightly, and he took care not to make too much noise as he settled Charlie in his basket and went about changing himself for bed.

He didn't feel at all tired when he lay down, too worried about the things his mother would say in the morning to be able to relax enough to drop off.

He jumped guiltily when he heard a knock on the door, worried that she'd come up to tell him off already, before breathing a sigh of relief when the light from the hallway revealed a smaller, far more sympathetic, visitor.

'Hello, darling.' Aunt Melly said, tiptoeing across the room to sit herself down at the bottom of his bed. 'I hope you don't mind me disturbing you like this.'

Quickly, he shook his head and she smiled.

'We didn't get much of a chance to speak downstairs, and I've been looking forward to hearing about your part in the party all day long. So, how did it come about, my dear?'

Comforted by the gentle, genuine interest in her voice, Wade forgot about his earlier embarrassment and sat up eagerly against the headboard. He told her all about his day, from holding the ladder while Uncle Rhett strung up the lanterns, to dressing in his very finest clothes, to parading Charlie around the ballroom while Ella and his stepfather danced, to taking up his position by the front door and welcoming all the guests to the party.

She seemed fascinated by everything he'd done, commending him on being such a big help to his parents, and telling him not to worry when the thought of the mess Charlie had made threatened to wipe the smile from his young face.

'He shouldn't have been on the porch, though.' He said glumly. 'Uncle Rhett only allowed it because I promised to keep him under control.'

'Oh, Wade, sweetheart, don't be upset.' She said, reaching out to stroke his cheek softly with the back of her hand. 'Charlie may be a very clever dog, but all pets misbehave sometimes. You're no more to blame for what happened than Ella was that time her cat clawed Beau for accidentally treading on its tail. Your parents know that, and so should you.'

'Do you really think so?' He asked, hardly daring to hope that it was true.

'Yes.' Said a deep voice, cutting through the quiet nursery and making both Wade and his aunt startle. 'And, what's more, she's right, too. Your mother and I both agree that you did us proud tonight, Wade. You were so good, in fact, that I think a treat is definitely in order, I'll have Lou know that she's to make your favorite meal for supper tomorrow night as a reward.'

'Thank you, sir.' Wade said, feeling the heavy pain in his stomach ease as he took in his stepfather's words.

'No need to thank me. Now, get yourself to sleep, young man, it's well past your bed time and you'll need to be up early to help me take those lanterns down. I don't trust anyone else to hold the ladder steadily enough for me.'

Flushing under the compliment, Wade nodded eagerly and settled himself back down under the covers, receiving a good night kiss from Aunt Melly before she rose up from the bed and made to leave the room.

He did not mean to listen, but could not help overhearing her and his stepfather as they spoke quietly together outside his door.

'I'm so sorry for this morning, Captain Butler. I really cannot apologise enough. I did try to make Scarlett visit the mills with me like you instructed, but she just would not be persuaded. I did everything I could think of to delay her, but I fear she must have returned home far earlier than you were expecting.'

'Please, Mrs Wilkes, do not trouble yourself on that score. I was a little surprised to see her arrive back so soon, I'll admit, but I had managed to get everything in order before she returned. There was no harm done.'

The relief in his aunt's voice was plain. 'Thank goodness for that, I was so worried that I'd ruined all your carefully laid plans that I could scarcely bear it.'

'I assure you, you did nothing of the kind. I'm certain you did the best you could, I doubt there is a single person alive today who's capable of changing Scarlett's mind once she's set it upon something.'

Aunt Melly laughed. 'As much as I hate to disagree with you, I think Mammy might have a thing or two to say about that.'

The deep rumble of his stepfather's answering chuckle rolled through the air as the pair began to walk away down the corridor, Wade having to strain to hear his last words before they faded into silence. 'I suspect she would, Mrs Wilkes, I suspect she would.'

It was some time later when Wade was pulled reluctantly from his dreamless sleep by the sound of voices. The deep, amused drawl coming from the corridor outside sounding so different from the serious, resectful tone he had heard earlier, that it took him a moment to realise that it was his stepfather speaking.

'The decor seems to have gone down particularly well, I think you'll agree. I do hate to say I told you so, my pet, but even that old sour puss Mrs. Elsing almost cracked a smile when she saw the way the porch had been lit.'

'You hate to say I told you so, do you?' Came the incredulous voice of his mother. 'That's rich! There's nothing you enjoy more than proving me wrong, Rhett Butler.'

'And did I?'

'Did you what?'

'Prove you wrong.'

'It's too early to tell, they haven't seen the ballroom yet.'

A lazy laugh flittered through the air. 'Touché, my dear. Although I think it's fair to presume that they will all approve. You certainly did.'

His mother scoffed loudly before a rustling sound and the muted thud of someone falling back against the wall rang out. When his stepfather spoke next, his voice had lowered to a teasing, suggestive drawl.

'Come, Scarlett. Admit that you were impressed. I won't tell anyone. Your deep, abiding admiration for your husband shall remain a secret between only us two.'

'Oh, do hush up.' His mother protested, sounding a little breathless. 'We need to go back, Rhett. They'll be wondering where we are.'

'Let them. I've been waiting all night to do this.' He said, before they both ceased talking for a few minutes.

'Rhett...mmm...Rhett, stop. Stop! We mustn't, anyone could walk by.' His mother cried, sounding more out of breath than ever.

'You're right, my pet. I wouldn't want just _anyone_ to see us.'

'We need to go back down, it's almost time for the dancing to begin.'

'Hmm, so it is.' He said. 'I look forward to claiming your hand many times tonight, it has been far too long since we last danced together, my dear.'

'Rhett-'

'You look so beautiful this evening. I remember the first time I saw you wearing this dress, you were so young and fearless...how little I could have imagined then that one day I would call you my wife.'

'Rhett, about the dress...'

'Do you not like it?'

'No, of course I do, it's perfect. People haven't stopped complimenting me on it all night. But I don't understand, it must have been ever such a lot of work to fix it, and Mammy said that you only gave it to her this morning, so when did you...'

Her voice was cut off by the chiming of the hallway clock.

'Is that the time?' Uncle Rhett said. 'Hurry, my dear, we'd better go down or we'll be late.'

'I told you we would be!' His mother chastised, all talk of the dress abruptly forgotten. 'It's bad enough that the damn dog ruined the drinks table, I don't want anything else to go wrong too.'

'As we're on the subject, I think Wade would appreciate you going to see him in the morning. Let him know that you don't hold him responsible for what happened. I sent Melanie up to check on him earlier, but it's your opinion that is bound to be worrying him.'

'But...'

'Scarlett.'

'Fine. I suppose it wasn't really his fault. If anything it was yours, I don't know what you were thinking letting him bring that animal along with him. It was bound to end in disaster.'

For a moment, Wade's chest clenched painfully, he couldn't bear it if his mistake caused his parents to fall out again. He hated it when they fought, the shadow of their last big row still hanging heavily in his mind despite all the weeks of calm that had followed.

He breathed a sigh of relief when his stepfather next spoke, sounding rueful rather than resentful. 'I should have known this would all end up on my head.'

He should have known better than to worry, his parents had seemed happier since his and Uncle Rhett's return from New Orleans, they rowed less, his mother didn't snipe as much, and his stepfather often walked around with a barely concealed grin on his face. The house had been a much nicer place to be in recent weeks, and Wade, despite the occasional scare, was finally learning to relax into the newfound sense of security his parents' truce provided.

'Yes, you should have.' His mother agreed. 'I'll just have to think up some way for you to make it up to me.'

'I'm sure I could offer you a few highly satisfying suggestions.'

'I'm sure you could,' she said quietly, before a flurry of swiftly retreating footsteps could be heard. 'No. No more of that! We have to go!'

'You're a cruel woman, Mrs Butler.' Uncle Rhett said, following her.

Wade lay quietly in the dark after they'd gone, unable to fall back to sleep until he remembered his Mother's words _. It wasn't really his fault._ He'd needed to hear them badly, and felt far better now that he had, letting them echo softly around his tired head until his eyes fell shut.

He only woke once more during the night, this time to the sound of hundreds of feet thundering up the stairs to the ballroom like a herd of wilderbeast on the march.

Wade sighed wistfully as he turned over into his side, imagining all the glamour and excitement of a night spent drinking and dancing until dawn. The years until he would be allowed to join in felt impossibly endless to his young mind, and as he drifted back off to sleep, his dreams were filled with hazy images of pretty girls with wide, warm smiles that, one day in the future, would steal his too-soft heart clean away.


	22. Chapter 22

_My mum always told me never to look a gift horse or a plot bunny in the mouth, so -thanks to heresvivi's brilliant suggestion- here is a semi-quick interlude where Scarlett and Rhett get up to all sorts of things that they shouldn't. Hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone who commented last time. I was struggling with confidence after being away for so long, and your words helped me to find my way again._

* * *

'You're a cruel woman.'

Scarlett turned her head to flash Rhett a saucy smile over her shoulder as she walked away from him towards the stairs. She felt curiously light, reckless almost, as if she might lift up off the ground and float away at any moment. She was giddy with the success of her crush, the admiring glances and wealth of complimentary comments she had received from her guests having buoyed up her spirits beyond all measure.

After weeks of hard work and a truly disastrous morning which had looked set to scupper all her carefully laid plans, Scarlett felt positively giddy with relief, drunk in a way that had precious little to do with the glass and a half of champagne she had recently consumed.

If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget how withered, old Mrs. Elsing had looked as she'd been forced to surrender in the face of popular opinion and admit that, yes, Scarlett's home was an unexpectedly fine, and _refined_ , thing, after all.

Sweeter still than earning the grudging respect of the most caustic of all the old cats was the memory of how Ashley's face had slackened as he'd taken in the sight of Scarlett, dressed to perfection and holding court in her new home like a young Queen about her castle. She would never forget the look in his eyes as he'd fixed his gaze upon her, the way his pupils had widened in surprise and nostalgia as he'd lowered his head and realised exactly what is was that she was wearing.

She was sure that he remembered it, a suspicion that had been confirmed not quarter of an hour later. _I shall never be able to forget how you looked that day,_ he'd said. Had there ever been twelve more satisfying words spoken between a man and a woman? If so, the Scarlett certainly couldn't recall them.

Even the mishap with that damn dog hadn't been able to dampen her spirits. In fact, she had to laugh when she thought of how horrified Mrs. Merriweather had looked to see the bottom of her best dress being soaked in spilt champagne. Instead of punishing him, maybe she'd let Charlie lick the scraps off her plate tomorrow suppertime as a reward. Rhett's little joke at Uncle Henry's expense had been very funny too. Henry could be a crotchety old coot when he wanted to be, but Rhett, on the rare occasions when he cared enough to make a good impression, had an uncanny knack for making seeming criticisms sound like the height of charm.

'What are you smiling about, my pet?' He asked, as they descended the last few steps into the hall, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as if eager to join in with her joke.

'I was just picturing Mrs. Merriweather's face when the drinks table overturned.' She said, unable to stop another laugh from escaping.

Rhett's eyes sparkled, and he swayed slightly on his feet, moving towards her almost unconsciously. 'I suspect we might be met with a rather hefty cleaning bill from her in the morning.'

Scarlett huffed, the idea of giving away her hard earned money sobering her instantly. 'If we do, I shan't be paying it. It's not my fault she didn't have the good sense to jump out of the way before it landed on her.'

'Parsimonious to the bitter end, I see.' Rhett said, and though he usually only used big words when mocking her, Scarlett thought his smile looked decidedly fond as he stared down at her.

Flushing slightly as his continued gaze slowly sharpened into something more heated, Scarlett stepped back and suggested that they'd better head back outside before they were missed. She hadn't wanted to come in at all, had been enjoying lauding her new found status over her neighbours too much to be happy about being pulled away, but Rhett assured her that her presence was needed urgently in the ballroom. Apparently, the band were almost ready to set up and he needed her to come upstairs with him to make sure they positioned themselves in the best possible place.

Scarlett didn't see what was so urgent about that, nor why such a simple task required two people to see to it, but Rhett had been insistent. Of course, twenty minutes, and one very unexpected detour to the shaded alcove outside the nursery later, and Scarlett was left in no doubt as to what her husband's real intentions had been.

Reaching a hand up to her hair, she patted it furtively, sure Rhett had pulled some pins loose when he cupped the back of her head in his palm earlier. His eyes followed her movement, and he grinned knowingly at her when she scowled at him and swiftly dropped her arm. 'We need to go back outside,' she said, already half-turned towards the open front door through which she could make out the distant figures of some of their guests.

'Of course,' Rhett said, his apparent agreement negated by the restraining hand he placed upon her shoulder. 'Would you mind waiting just a moment more? I seem to have left the seating plan for the ballroom on the desk in my study.'

Sighing loudly at his forgetfulness, Scarlett nevertheless nodded her head, following Rhett as he made his way down the corridor to his room. She lingered awkwardly on the threshold when he opened the door and stepped inside, oddly reluctant to go in after him. She could not help but remember the last time they had been alone together in his study, nor the way she had used tonight's crush in a disastrous bid to bend him to her will. She recollected only too well the harsh, hateful words he had thrown her way, how bitter his tone had been, how starkly the lines on his face had stood out against the underlying tan.

He did not look hostile tonight though. Flicking her eyes across the room to where he stood leaning over the desk, his large hands searching through piles of paper to find the one that he needed, Scarlett found that resentment was the last thing she felt where he was concerned.

He looked very dashing in his suit, the expensive fabric perfectly sculpted across his broad shoulders and lean, well-toned torso. It tapered in around his slim waist and the trousers managed to achieve the seemingly impossible by elongating his firm, strong legs even further still. He really was rather attractive, even Scarlett had to admit that. She had first become aware of his good looks while away on their honeymoon, but had always thought of them in a proud, oddly impersonal way, pleased that they made her the envy of other women, but relieved never to have felt the effects of them herself.

She could not, in all honesty, say the same now. Her traitorous mind kept playing tricks on her, transporting her back to that other night when he had sat at his desk working, his jacket removed and his sleeves rolled back to reveal forearms whose muscles shifted and bulged with every flicker of the flames in the fireplace. His neck had been tantalisingly bare then, his cravat removed to expose the hard ridge of his collar bones and the topmost hairs of his chest. She had not understood why such a sight had affected her so back then, had put her appreciation down to the fact that he was working, assuming that her naturally industrious spirit simply approved of his similar mindset.

Now she knew better. It was not his mind that appealed to her in moments such as these. She had the mad urge to rush over to him now and take off his jacket, to crumple up his pristine suit beneath her hands, to strip away at his gentlemanly façade until she succeeded in revealing the savage that lurked beneath.

The air growing hotter and more airless the longer that she observed him, Scarlett knew that the former, comforting indifference she had felt towards her husband had all but melted away in recent weeks, leaving her uncomfortably aware of her own desire for him. Though no longer able to deny it, she still did not have to like this new revelation. In fact, she despised it. Terrified of the amount of power he would have over her if he were ever to discover her change of heart, she sought to hide it from him at all costs.

Shaking herself, Scarlett dropped her gaze down to the floor. She was unaware that Rhett had been subtly watching the entire time, the seating plan that he was supposedly searching for having been safely tucked away in the inside pocket of his jacket all along. Her eyes averted, Scarlett did not see him round the desk, crossing the floor in only three swift, silent steps.

She jumped in fright when he called her name, not expecting to hear his voice coming from so close a spot. Jerking her head up, Scarlett flinched back when she felt her mouth unexpectedly connect with his.

'What are you doing?' She hissed indignantly, casting a worried glance around at the corridor behind her. She exhaled in relief when she saws that it was empty. It would be just her luck for Mammy to have stumbled across Rhett's act of foolishness. She dreaded to think of the stink the aging servant would have created if she'd seen. Hostess or not, Scarlett would never be too old or grand for a sound telling off in her eyes.

Distracted by her thoughts, Scarlett was caught off guard when Rhett snagged an arm around her waist, pulling her bodily into the room and closing the door before she'd had a chance to protest. Rhett smiled slyly as he pushed her back against the door, his larger body ensnaring her own and preventing her from escaping his hold.

'Rhett-' She started, only to be cut off when he swooped down and captured her mouth in a heated kiss. Try as she might to resist, Scarlett could feel herself giving in to his advances, her lips parting as he nibbled and pulled on them until she relented enough to let the warm slide of his tongue slip into her opened mouth.

Her earlier thoughts returning with a vengeance, she began to kiss him back with all the passion and impatience of one denied something vital for far too long. The hands that had been clawing at his arms, demanding that he release her, now snaked their way over his shoulders to wrap themselves around his neck, pulling him down closer against her and enabling him to deepen the kiss further still.

She shouldn't be doing this. Not forty foot away, almost a hundred of their closest friends and neighbours were chatting idly out on the front porch, waiting for their hosts to return and inform them when they were supposed to head upstairs for food and dancing. How quickly their expressions of awe and envy would sink down into gasps of horror and disgust if they could see what she was doing now. How completely they would shun her, blacklisting her name so severely that even her family connections and Melly's fiercely protective soul would not be able to regain her access to the myriad of doors that would be forever slammed in her face.

All this she knew, and yet still she did not push him away. If anything, the knowledge that they were all so close, that the risk of detection was so great, added a dark thrill to their actions, one that she had never felt before and feared that she could easily grow addicted to. Scarlett felt consumed by flames, red-hot and leaping, that licked their way up through her nerves and penetrated her mind, searing away the last vestiges of rational thought and self-preservation until there was nothing left but an aching need that demanded to be quenched.

She did not protest when Rhett's kisses grew desperate and raw, did not bat his hands away when they wandered from her waist to explore and caress her entire body. She did not even cry out when he lifted her off of her feet, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him as best she could give the confines of her billowing skirts, her back knocking against the closed door with a bang that sounded almost deafening to her ears.

Rhett must have thought so too, for he finally pulled back, allowing her to suck in some much needed air as he lent his upper body away from hers and fixed her with a loaded stare.

'Do you think you can be quiet?' He asked, a roguish glint illuminating his dark eyes as he braced his arms securely around her waist and carried her away from the door and across the room to his desk.

Finding herself being lowered down onto the mahogany surface, Scarlett felt the slight chill of the wood seeping through the back of her dress and stealing its way up her spine. She shivered, and Rhett moved closer, bending down over her and using his body to cover hers like a blanket. 'Scarlett,' he repeated, voice hoarse and strangely hushed as he stared down at her, the sort of reverent, quiet voice most people only used when worshipping in church. 'Do you think you can be quiet?'

As soft and muzzy as her head felt, Scarlett was still alert enough to grasp the real meaning behind his question. He was asking her if she really wanted to do this. He was giving her a choice, handing her the power to determine what would happen next, and it was this, more even than the sharp ache between her legs, or the lingering kiss he placed against the skin behind her ear -a place guaranteed to do away with the last of her reservations- that made her close her eyes and nod her head shakily in assent.

She wanted him. As scandalous and sinful as it was, she wanted him.

Time seemed to lose all form and meaning after that, where once second had followed second, the next minute arriving promptly after the previous one had ended, now the brush of Rhett's hand against her cheek could last an eternity, the laborious removal of her stockings and under things a mere moment.

He did not stop to take off his trousers, but simply opened them up and lowered them until he was free. This last indignity should have brought her back to her senses, and yet it served only to arouse her more. There was something exhilarating about watching Rhett lose his composure so completely, forgoing his usual restraint in his rush to possess her.

By all rights, she should have shied away from such behaviour. Instead, she found herself revelling in it. Pressing her head back against the desk and arching her spine up as he entered her, Scarlett moaned aloud as he put pressure against a spot that made white stars dance and dive across the black abyss of her eyelids.

'Hush,' Rhett warned her, although he sounded far from displeased by her outburst.

Struggling to keep quiet, she sunk her teeth mercilessly into her lower lip, biting down until the bitter tang of blood seeped down to meet her tongue.

He started slowly, rocking against her at a gentle, drowsy pace. After the heat of the build up, the sudden lull surprised and disappointed Scarlett, and she opened her mouth to protest. Rhett raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Reminded that she wasn't supposed to talk, Scarlett clamped her lips back together and frowned, unsure how to go about making her wishes known now that she could not speak them aloud.

Raising her hand, she wound it through the longer hairs at the back of Rhett's scalp, pulling him down closer to her. That only made him press his mouth to hers though, and while she would never be adverse to his kisses, at the present moment she found that she had far more urgent concerns.

Scowling harder in frustration, Scarlett wrapped her legs more firmly around Rhett's waist, squeezing him to her and rolling her hips relentlessly back and forth. This time it was Rhett who made a noise, punching out a low grunt as he lifted his head to stare at her, shock warring with desire.

Smiling predatorily, he heeded her silent message and picked up the pace, sending a spike of pure pleasure shooting through Scarlett and forcing a whimper from her throat before she could call it back.

'Now, now,' Rhett murmured through gritted teeth, his warm breath tickling at her ear. 'None of that, my pet. We wouldn't want someone to hear you and come running.'

The thought of someone walking in on them, terrible as it was, only made Scarlett want to cry out louder. The knowledge that she couldn't only served to further stoke the flames of her passion until they grew so large that they threatened to set her entire world on fire. They could burn it down so easily, cut a scorching path through all the lies she had told and the false friendships she had cultivated along the way. They could destroy everything she had worked so hard to build up, and yet still she could not bear to stop. Instead of pulling away, dousing this dangerous heat between them, she clutched Rhett against her more tightly still, using her body to silently plead for the things that her mouth could not.

Rhett's movements grew almost vicious as his dark eyes bored into hers, effortlessly reading her need. Scarlett could hear the desk scraping against the floor, the wood groaning as if in protest at being used so improperly. Around her, papers and files were rocking back and forth like small, white boats on a turbulent sea, a spherical paperweight rolling around and bouncing rhythmically off the side of her rib cage in time with Rhett's thrusts.

Feeling herself being pushed further and further up the desk every time Rhett moved, Scarlett flung out an arm to anchor herself, gripping the edge of the wood with her fingernails and accidentally sending the paperweight flying. She did not see it fall off the side, but the unmistakable sound of shattering glass filled the air a moment later, and she could have sworn she saw Rhett pause to reprimand her for her carelessness before he remembered he could not speak and settled for burying his lips in the soft flesh of her neck instead.

'Rhett,' she whispered, knowing that it was risky to say his name and yet wholly unable to keep it in. She was nearing the precipice, and needed him to help her scale it. Giving her neck a final kiss, he pulled back to lean down over her, a strand of dark hair falling rakishly across his left eye. Glancing downwards, Scarlett saw with a flash of satisfaction that his suit was indeed crumpled after all, the expensive fabric not having been designed to withstand such lowbrow acts as these. The sight of him above her, dishevelled and unrestrained, made Scarlett's heart clench possessively in her chest.

In a few more minutes, he would be buttoning himself back up, straightening out the creases in his clothes and heading out to the porch as if nothing had happened. Later, he would dance with other women, charming them as he always did with his lazy drawl and devilish eyes. They'd think that he wanted them, that he cared for them, when in fact he was Scarlett's and Scarlett's alone. Wanting to make this clear, if only secretly, Scarlett's hands shot out of their own accord, finding purchase in the soft material of his cravat and pulling and twisting until it finally fell loose. Her eyes tracking hotly across the newly bared skin, she darted upwards and bit down hard on the sensitive space where throat met collar bone, laving and suckling on the enflamed skin until it blossomed like a flower beneath her tongue.

Taken by surprise, Rhett cursed loudly and slammed his hips roughly against hers. Scarlett, revelling in the increased force of his ardour, clenched down hard around him as she flew up to meet her peak. Biting down even harder to suffocate her cries, Scarlett battled against the white-hot waves of pleasure in almost total silence, sinking back down against the desk bonelessly when they began to slowly ebb away.

Closing her eyes, Scarlett drifted for a few minutes, only dimly aware of Rhett finding his own release and pulling back to tidy himself up. She felt far too content to move, even the thought of showing off the ballroom to her guests did not seem to hold the same charms it once had. Part of her wanted nothing more than for Rhett to make them all leave, to shut up the house, and come back here to drift off to sleep beside her.

She knew they couldn't though, it was suspicious enough that they'd been absent for as long as they had, the last thing they needed was to add more fuel to the fire by cancelling the crush altogether.

Heaving a sigh, she inched her way upright, bending down to pick up her discarded undergarments and smothering a smile as she caught sight of Rhett struggling to iron out his trousers with his hands.

'Perhaps you should ask Mammy to do that for you.' She said cheekily, feeling daring now that they had gotten away with something so outrageous under everybody's noses.

Rhett turned to smile at her. 'And have her demand to know how I managed to get such interesting looking creases on them? I think not, my dear.'

Pulling on her stockings and slipping back into her shoes, Scarlett stood up on shaky legs and made her way over to her husband, not able to fully believe what they had just done. Alert to the rising mortification in her eyes, Rhett pulled her to him and cradled her reassuringly in his arms. 'You go out first, my pet, I'll wait in here for a few minutes and then follow you out. It would be best if we weren't seen to arrive back out on the porch together. We wouldn't want to set the old cat's whiskers a-twitching, would we?'

Heeding the wisdom of his words, Scarlett nodded and pulled back, making sure to straighten out her dress before she shot Rhett once last glance and headed out of the room.

She startled when she opened it to see Ashley standing not ten foot away, his pale face looking almost ghostly white against the darkness of the corridor. For one absurd moment she thought that he was an apparition, and blinked hard in a bid to clear her head. He was still there when she opened her eyes though, looking flustered and ill at ease as he stared at her as if looking at a stranger.

'I...I was looking for the facilities.' He said after a long moment of silence.

'Of course,' Scarlett said, unable to keep from blushing when she noticed how hoarse her voice sounded. 'They're on the second floor. Third door on your right.'

'Right,' he nodded, glancing down at the floor. 'Pork did tell me. It's a good job that my ability to follow simple instructions wasn't so atrociously poor during the war, or I'd have never have made it back.'

Forcing her mouth up into a creaking smile, Scarlett watched him bound away up the stairs like a demon was snapping at his tailcoats. An odd, cold sensation filled her stomach as she turned to head back out onto the porch, her body seeming to know instinctively what her mind was too sated to comprehend.

The players may have swapped their positions, but the game itself was largely unchanged. It seemed that Scarlett O'Hara was forever destined to be overheard at parties while wearing her green sprigged muslin dress.


	23. Chapter 23

_*Nervously raises head above the parapet* Hi. I'm really sorry for being away for so long. Thanks to the guest reviewers whose kind words motivated me to get off my bum and get on with writing this story. I can't believe it's been almost two years since I started it- it feels like at least five! I'll try to get it finished before we reach double digits, I promise. Hope you enjoy._

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There was something wrong with Scarlett's hands. There had to be. Every so often, during the meal, they kept twitching in Rhett's direction. She'd be sat there perfectly innocently, listening to the rough drawl of his voice, or watching the way the muscles in his jaw caught the candlelight as he ate, and it would happen. Her skin would itch and her fingers would move almost imperceptibly in his direction.

It was starting to become something of a problem.

She could barely concentrate on the lavish supper laid out before her, and, for the last hour, had paid little mind to the inane drivel being spouted by Aunt Pittypat. Her aunt was sat to her immediate left, and had been busy regaling Scarlett with the latest gossip from the town.

She had barely paused for breath since the starters had been served, but in all that time, all Scarlett could recall hearing was a whispered remark as to the increased size of Grandpa Merriweather's stomach - 'It's all those unsold pies he's been helping himself to. Dolly came downstairs and caught him sneaking three into his pockets one night last week. Furious, she was.'- and the usual complaints about Uncle Henry's supposed neglect - 'It's been over a fortnight since I last saw him, and did he say sorry when he greeted me this evening? No, he did not. And him knowing how delicate my health is, too.'

With such stimulating conversation on offer, it was no wonder her attention kept returning to her husband, Scarlett thought.

She knew she would have been far less distracted had only the seating plan been different. She was sure she had stipulated that Ashley and Melanie should be seated beside herself and Rhett. She remembered being very clear on the subject, in fact. Like all things regarding this God-forsaken crush, however, there seemed to have been something of a mix up.

The seating plan Rhett had collected from his study earlier -the mere thought of which brought a heated, rosy hue to her cheeks, even now- had said that the Wilkes's were to be sat at a completely different table, though. She wasn't sure how it had happened. The pair were so far away, almost at the opposite end of the vast ballroom, that Scarlett had to crane her neck just to catch a glimpse of them.

She did so now, having to squint slightly to be able to make out Ashley and Melanie. They seemed to be deep in coversation with Mrs. Whitling. What that old crow could have to say that was of any interest, Scarlett couldn't imagine. Melly was such a goose that she'd listen to any old nonsense, though, and Ashley was far too much of a gentleman to intervene.

Lord knew, if he hadn't of been, the crush would have had a very different outcome.

Something flared in Scarlett's stomach, raw and unpleasant, as she recalled the moment she'd opened the door of the study to find him standing there. Her mind had been too scrambled to register it at the time, but now she shivered in mortification when she thought of how close he had come to walking in on them.

A few minutes earlier, and he would have seen everything. He would have viewed her at her worst, and, never again, would he have considered her a lady.

Scarlett did not know how she ever would have borne it. His good opinion was everything to her. It informed the way she viewed herself, and buoyed her up whenever her spirits were in danger of sinking.

The knowledge of how perilously close she had just come to losing his regard should have appalled her. It should have made the very notion of engaging in any further physical intimacy with her husband utterly repellant. At the very least, it should have stopped her hands from wanting to reach out and touch Rhett at every given moment.

That it didn't, terrified her more than she could rightly say.

It did not help that she could see the tell tale creases in Rhett's trousers every time she happened to glance downwards. Nor that his cravat was still slightly askew. It had been ever since he'd hastily refixed it before leaving the study. Scarlett knew only too well the mark that the lopsided material concealed. A mark that she had embedded into the soft skin of his throat with her own teeth not two hours previously.

The thought should have mortified her, and yet it only made her feel strangely triumphant. She had seen the female guests peeking admiringly at her husband, had caught their every longing look and wistful sigh; they wanted him, all of them, but they could not have him. He was hers, a thought which made her chest purr in possessive approval.

'Scarlett,' Rhett said, bringing her back to herself with a jolt. Worried that her thoughts were emblazoned across her face, Scarlett lifted her head and tried to bluff it out. Rhett's eyebrows slanted together in curiosity as he read her defiant expression, his large frame angling instinctively towards her as though she had just presented him with a unexpected puzzle which he was eager to work out.

'Yes?'

Shaking his head, Rhett's posture lost its sudden tenseness, and he replied easily, 'With your permission, I believe it's time for the dancing to begin.'

Flustered, Scarlett could only nod. She hardly dared to imagine where her hands may be tempted to roam once Rhett took her in his arms for the first waltz. Before she could contemplate the matter any further, Rhett surprised her by standing up.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he declared loudly, signalling to the fiddler waiting discreetly in the corner that it was time for him to take his place on the stage. 'My wife and I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed your meal. The dancing is due to begin shortly, but before that, I am going to propose a surprise- an innovation that may shock some of you, but I ask you to remember that all of this is done in the simple, pure-hearted spirit of joie de vivre.'

Rhett paused to throw a lazy grin in Scarlett's direction. She frowned at him. She did not understand what he was doing, although she recognised his words well enough. Aside for that bit at the end about the spirit of something or other, his speech had been a perfect replica of the one Dr. Meade had spouted many years ago at the bazaar to raise money for the damned Confederacy.

She was sure of it. After all, she was hardly likely to have forgotten. Not when what had followed had come to define her reputation -or lack of one- in the eyes of most of Atlanta's residents for years to come.

No doubt seeing her look of recognition, Rhett's grin widened. Scarlett squirmed in her seat as she wondered what exactly he was planning. From the glint in his eye, she feared it could be nothing good. Surely, he did not mean to propose another bidding war? He had seemed so keen on improving relations with the Old Guard recently, frequently going out of his way to pander to their old-fashioned beliefs when she knew he did not hold them himself. He must have known that any reminder of the scandalous way the pair of them had acted back at that bazaar would swiftly undo most of the good work he had so painstakingly undertaken.

'Now,' Rhett continued, addressing the room once more. 'Ladies, if you could form one long line on the left of the dance floor, and, Gentlemen, if you could do the same on the right. That's it,' he said, as the guests, with much scrapping of chairs and evident looks of reluctance, slowly got to their feet to do as he instructed. Scarlett followed afterwards, finding herself at the head of the female line, standing directly opposite her husband, who took his place at the start of the men's.

'When the music begins, you are to dance with whoever is opposite you.' Rhett said, his eyes burning into Scarlett's in a way that made her feel positively indecent. 'When I call 'Change!', you are to stop dancing with your current partner and find a new one. You must do so instantly, no matter how many times I call 'Change!', and you cannot go back and dance with a previous partner once you have left them. Understood?'

Admidst the excited laughter of the younger guests, and the disgruntled grumblings of the older set, Scarlett saw Rhett signal again to the fiddler. The man raised his bow and the gentle music of those kinder, more innocent pre-war days echoed around the ballroom.

Scarlett bit her tongue to hide a smile as she stepped forward into Rhett's embrace.

'What are you up to?' she asked him as his arms came around her.

He smiled. 'It's a game.'

'It's ridiculous.' she countered.

'Of course it is.' Rhett said. 'All the best games are. It will help people to relax. I defy even the most rigid of backsides not to unclench a little after we have played a few rounds.'

Scarlett looked over Rhett's shoulder to where Mrs. Merriweather was performing the stiffest of waltzes with a grim-faced Dr. Meade, and thought that the historic day where her husband was finally to be proved wrong may well have dawned.

She laughed lightly, remembering his earlier speech.

'What's so amusing, my pet?' Rhett asked, moving closer and holding her a touch too tightly as always.

'I never thought I'd see the day when Rhett Butler found himself quoting Dr. Meade.'

Rhett ducked his head ruefully, his next words sending a whisper of warm air skating down the side of Scarlett's neck. 'Needs must, I'm afraid. Although, I sincerely hope that is where all similarities end. I have no intention of turning into a pompous old goat anytime soon.'

Scarlett wisely kept quiet. She feared that any admission on her part as to what Rhett had really looked like while speaking would only send his already inflated sense of vanity spiralling further still.

'I'm not so sure,' she teased. 'If your moustache grows any longer, then, in a few years, it will surely rival the doctor's for droopiness.'

'Never, my dear. I do not intend to let the advancing years turn me into a respectable old man. Although, I'm intrigued to know that you've given my future appearance so much careful thought.' Rhett smirked. For a moment, the light from the chandelier above their heads seemed to reflect directly into her husband's eyes, the warm candlelight penetrating their dark depths and making Scarlett feel as though she was being offered a rare glimpse behind a door that he usually kept firmly locked. 'Tell me, my pet, which other parts of your husband's anatomy have inspired such prolonged study?'

Scarlett's eyebrows shot up into her hairline before she recovered herself quickly. Scowling, she fought to put some much-needed space between them. They were dancing far too closely. People would see. They would think her consumed with an emotion that she did not feel. That she could not feel. Not for Rhett.

'None.' Scarlett replied, tone sharp.

'No?' Rhett persisted, ignoring her change of mood. Moving forward, he effortlessly closed the gap she had struggled to create between their bodies. 'Are you sure?'

'Perfectly.'

'You don't think about what we will be like in the years to come?'

'No.'

'A pity.' he sighed. 'The thought frequently crosses my mind.'

Interest piqued, Scarlett wanted to know what thoughts Rhett had about their future. He remained stubbornly silent though, and she did not feel brave enough to ask him, afraid she might hear something that she would not like.

Feeling slightly smothered by the weight of the conversation, and more still by the heavy hand on her back, Scarlett saw Ashley waltz by with Maybelle, and began plotting her escape. 'Isn't it about time we exchanged partners?'

Following her eyeline, Rhett's face clouded over and he span her around faster, leading her across the floor to the other side of the room in an instant. Unprepared for the sudden change of pace, Scarlett could only clutch onto him dizzily.

'I'm in no rush to see you leave my arms, my dear.' he murmured lowly into her ear as they spun. His words did nothing to alleviate her lightheadedness. If anything, they increased it.

Rhett twirled them closer to the stage where the fiddler was playing. The tune was a gentle one, and Scarlett smiled as she recognised it. She had not heard it for many years. Long ago, it had been a favourite at the parties held in and around Clayton county.

Scarlett did not think of the past often. She did not like to dwell on it as others did, letting the present pass them by unlived while they wallowed in the memories of times gone by.

Like a shot fired into the wall of a dam, however, the long-forgotten tune breeched her defences, and brought it all flooding back. She had lost count of the number of times she had danced to this piece of music, had lost touch with most of the young men she'd danced with it to, as well.

Scarlett sighed forlornly, thinking of the beaus she had once collected so thoughtlessly, and would now never see again. Many of them had been cruelly torn from her by the senseless brutality of a war that they could never have hoped to win. She hated to think of it, of how they had all gone to their deaths like lambs to the slaughter, misguidedly thinking themselves wolves.

'Do not fear, Scarlett.' Rhett said, voice cold as it bit into her reverie, shattering it to pieces. 'I'm sure Mr. Wilkes will circle back around in no time.'

Confused, Scarlett could only frown. 'What are you talking about?'

'You looked upset,' he explained, something of the hardness around his eyes softening the longer he looked at her. 'I assumed a missed opportunity to dance with your paramour was to blame.'

'You thought wrong,' she said, bristling. She did not know why the thought of Rhett calling Ashley her paramour should offend her so much. It was certainly not the first time he had done so. For some reason the word sounded wrong falling from his lips on this occasion, though.

'Forgive me,' Rhett said, sounding surprisingly earnest. 'Of what were you thinking?'

At first she did not want to tell him. After accusing her so unfairly, he did not deserve to hear it. Rhett had always been good at soothing her heartache in the past though, and his broad shoulders and large frame did look so very inviting. They seemed to invite confidence, promising as they did a safe, strong harbour in which to anchor her fears. Staring at him, she had to forcibly resist the urge to sink into his muscular chest and lay her cheek against the reassuring beat of his heart.

'The last time I heard this tune.'

Rhett's eyes widened in understanding. 'I asked the fiddler to select pieces from before the war. I did not mean for them to made you sad, Scarlett. Shall I ask him to play something else?'

Touched by his concern, Scarlett shook her head. 'It's almost finishing, and it is such a pretty tune.'

'When did you last dance to it?'

Scarlett smiled, nostalgia softening her expression. 'At Twelve Oakes.'

'Strange; I seem to remember the ball being cancelled before the dancing could begin. Although, for the life of me, I can't recall why.'

Scarlett rolled her eyes, appreciating his attempt to lighten the atmosphere just the same. 'It was the ball before that one. You weren't there.'

'How dreadfully dull you must have found it.'

'I didn't. It was the last party before the Tarleton twins went away to the University of Georgia. They spent most of it vying for my hand.'

'I'm sure you hated that.' Rhett smirked.

'Hardly,' Scarlett conceded easily. 'Knowing they were going to be there to fight over me was the only reason I agreed to go.'

Rhett threw his head back and laughed loudly, his booming chuckle making the dancing couples nearest to them glance around in alarm. Embarrassed, Scarlett smacked him on the arm to get him to stop. 'Hush! You'll have us thrown out of our own crush.'

'After the amount of time and effort we put into hosting it? I think not, Mrs. Butler. Besides, they are an unscrupulous lot, these Atlanta folk. I wouldn't trust them not to run off with our valuables if we left them in the house unsupervised.'

Scarlett huffed. 'I wouldn't mind if they ran off with those hideous paintings you put up in the hallway. Indeed, I'd thank them for it.'

Rhett smiled, wide and honest, and the sight of it did strange things to Scarlett's insides. Staring at him, she missed the moment when the waltz ended and a new one began.

'I suppose I'd better tell people to swap partners.' Rhett said, sounding far from happy about the idea.

The clear reluctance in the voice made Scarlett preen. 'Are you regretting your little game, Rhett?' she asked innocently.

'If I do, then it is your fault. Let it not be said that I have no empathy for Jacob. I, too, have toiled away for my Rachel, only to have her snatched from me and replaced by a hundred Leahs.'

Scarlett frowned. She did not know who Jacob was, nor did she like the sound of this Rachel woman, whomever she may be. Before she could ask Rhett to point her out from among the guests though, he had pulled away to call out 'Change!'.

Instantly, a dozen or so women, newly shorn of their dancing partners and keen to find a new one in her husband, appeared around them like a pack of circling vultures. She could not blame them. Rhett did look very striking in his suit. It offset his tanned skin and dark hair to perfection. In fact, the latter looked almost jet black in the low light.

Scarlett gasped in sudden revelation, an old memory resurfacing with startling clarity.

Rhett looked at her in concern. 'What is it?' he asked. His eyes remained fixed upon her face, despite the arrival of the other women. Armed with her new awareness, Scarlett was determined to keep it that way.

'I remembered something else from that ball at Twelve Oakes.' she remarked playfully.

'Is that so?' Rhett asked, ignoring the waiting women as he stepped towards her, eyes alight with a flame that, this time, had nothing to do with the candles flickering above their heads.

'Yes.' Scarlett said, taking a small step backwards. He followed her instantly, as if it never crossed his mind not to. As if the very notion of letting her walk away was unthinkable to him.

'And what did you remember?'

'Oh, nothing important. Just that there was a fortune teller there. An old woman called Mammy Jincy. She told me the strangest thing about my future husband.'

'What did she say?' Rhett asked, his voice overflowing with curiosity.

Seeing a way to keep his attention fixed solely on her while they were apart, Scarlett kept walking backwards until she bumped into the lonely figure of Peter Marlow. A elderly bachelor who worked at the bank, he had never married, and looked much too afraid to walk over to a woman and offer himself up as a partner.

Seizing her chance, Scarlett flashed him her most bewitching smile and held out her hand for him to take. He did so tentatively, as if unable to believe in his good luck.

'I'm afraid I shall have to wait to tell you, Rhett.' Scarlett said as she began to dance with Peter. 'You have already called 'change', and I would hate to break the rules of your game. I know how important it is to you.'

Spinning away from her husband, she turned her head to look back at him. Rhett's eyes were dark as he watched her go, his hands clenched into tight fists by his sides. Yet, she did not think he was angry. There was a telling line at the corner of his mouth; a small indentation that told her his lips were aching to curl upwards in grudgingly admiration of her cunning.

She laughed to herself as she got swept away by the music, confident that her husband would think of nothing but her until she returned to his side.

It did not occur to Scarlett to question why such a thing was so important to her. Nor why her own thoughts kept straying back to Rhett, no matter who she ended up dancing with. She simply closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of dancing, pleased that her crush had turned out to be a roaring success, after all.


	24. Chapter 24

_Thank you to all the guest reviewers- I'm sorry there's no way for me to reply to you individually. I'm so overwhelmed by the responses the last chapter, especially after I made you all wait so long to read it! This is by far the kindest, most supportive fandom I've been a part of, and it's your comments that give me the motivation to get on and finish this story._

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They'd been playing Rhett's game for the last half an hour. After dancing with Peter, Scarlett had moved onto Grandpa Merriweather -now that she thought about it, he was looking a little wider around the waist. Pittypat was right about that, at least- and was now partnering Uncle Henry.

It had not escaped her notice that Rhett had an unfortunate habit of calling 'Change!' whenever she was surrounded by old men. She was beginning to think that it may be deliberate.

'You've organised a fine party, Scarlett.' Uncle Henry said as they waltzed together. He was a surpringly good dancer considering his age, far better than poor Peter Marlow had turned out to be. The man had stepped on her toes so many times, and apologised so pitifully, that Scarlett had taken to signalling to Rhett every time she got near him, silently pleading with him to hurry up and ask people to exchange partners. No doubt in retribution for her earlier teasing, her husband had taken no notice of her.

Once, he had even had the gall to mouth 'What?' as she went by, all but limping now that her poor feet had been trodden on so many times. They'd be swollen and sore tomorrow morning, and she would take great delight in making Rhett rub them for her. She planned to keep him at it for hours, until his fingers cramped and he begged her to forgive him for playing such a cruel joke.

She smiled, both at Henry's compliment, and at the thought of bringing her husband, quite literally, to heel.

'Do you like the house, Uncle?' she asked sweetly.

It was a barbed question. Henry had advised her against building such a lavish home for herself and her family many a time. He thought it in poor taste for Scarlett to showcase her newfound wealth in a city still recovering from the effects of Reconstruction.

Henry, never one to admit his mistakes easily, pursed his lips. 'I'll agree that it's less ostentatious than I had feared. The decor is unexpectedly fetching, especially in the hallway.'

Scarlett huffed. Trust her uncle to approve of the dreary pictures Rhett had put up. She would have to invite him around again once her original artwork and mirrors had been reinstalled. If he thought that plain old scenes of rural farmyards were 'fetching', then there was no telling how impressed he'd be when he saw her far more glamorous portraits.

'Change!' Rhett called, just as Dr. Meade went waltzing by. Determined not to end up with a fourth dance partner old enough to be her grandfather, Scarlett pretended not to see the hand Dr. Meade extended in her direction, and scoured the nearby men for a more suitable partner.

She spotted Ashley standing not too far off, and waved to him. It surprised her when he did not wave back. Instead, he ducked his head down to gaze at the marble floor as if hoping it would open up and swallow him whole.

Scarlett frowned, stung by his snub, and let Rene Picard swoop in and claim her hand. Maybelle's husband kept up a steady stream of chatter as they moved together around the floor, but Scarlett did not hear a word of it. She was too consumed with worrying about Ashley's troubling behaviour to pay any attention.

She did not know what she could have done to upset him. He had been perfectly fine, earlier, when they had spoken out on the porch. Indeed, they had shared the sort of fond, intimate conversation that they rarely got the chance to indulge in these days. Scarlett had revelled in it, and she had hoped that Ashley had secretly felt the same.

True, he had looked a little out of sorts when she'd encountered him outside the study, but he had eaten his meal well enough, and he no longer looked pale and sickly as he had done when she'd opened the door to find him standing there. She did not think he could be physically unwell.

An unpleasant thought suddenly occurred to her. _Of course_ , she cried silently, _how did I not realise it before?_

It was obvious, really, if only you took the time to consider the matter properly.

Earlier that day, before the shopkeepers' awful conspiracy had been revealed, Melanie had found Scarlett in the dressmakers. She had told her that Ashley was having trouble at the mill and that he needed her immediate assistance. Thinking back, Melly had been uncharacteristically forceful in her attempts to get Scarlett to visit the mill.

It must have been a very serious problem. Though he often needed it, Ashley did not like to ask for help. He did not enjoy feeling as though he was a burden to Scarlett, nor did he like to add to her already hefty workload. It must have taken some considerable courage for him to ask Melly to seek her out.

And, after all that, Scarlett had refused to go. She'd had her reasons; good ones, in fact, but she had been in too much of a state to stop and to explain them to Melanie. Poor Ashley must have thought that she did not care for him, that she would rather go about her own business than take the time to help him in his hour of need.

Determined to set his mind at ease, Scarlett scanned the ballroom until she caught sight of Ashley dancing with India over by the main doors. All but dragging the amiable Rene across the floor, she engineered it so that she tracked the siblings wherever they went.

Impatiently, she waited for Rhett to call 'Change!'. It seemed to take him an absolute age, but when he finally got around to it, she wasted no time in flinging herself out of Rene's arms and rushing over to claim India's place.

'I wondered how long it would take you to proposition my brother,' India whispered snidely as Scarlett passed. Throwing her a baleful smile, Scarlett was too intent upon apologising to Ashley to let India's words throw her off course.

She saw him wince slightly as she stepped closer, and felt the pain of his rebuttal spear through her chest like a knife to the heart. She had to make him understand. She could not bare to have him think badly of her.

Reaching him, Scarlett stepped into his outstretched arms and opened her mouth to explain.

'Ash-'

'Change!'

Her husband's voice cut sharply through the quiet ballroom. As all those around her laughed and rushed around trying to find yet another new partner, Scarlett felt frozen in shock.

She tried to reach out, but Ashley was already stepping away. She watched on, nonplussed, as he walked over to Fanny Elsing. He took her arm, and they spun away, leaving Scarlett standing alone in the middle of the floor.

In all the commotion, Scarlett had forgotten that she, too, was now in need of a new partner. She turned around, searching for a suitable candidate, but could see only couples. There did not appear to be anyone left for her to dance with.

Her cheeks heating, Scarlett made to walk over to the drinks table on the pretext of being thirsty, but was stopped in her tracks when a shadow fell across the floor in front of her.

'May I have this dance?'

Turning, Scarlett found herself face to face with her husband.

She frowned. 'Your memory must be failing you, Rhett. I thought you said that we weren't allowed to dance with the same person twice?'

Rhett grinned as he took her in his arms, leaning down to murmur in her ear. 'Have I taught you nothing, my pet? The rules that bind others have never applied to the likes of you and me.'

Unamused, Scarlett stared him straight in the eye as she said, 'I know what you were trying to do, calling 'Change!' when you did.'

'Do you, indeed?' Rhett asked, his face the picture of innocence.

'Yes, and I don't like it.'

'I'm afraid I have no idea what you're referring to, my dear. Please, enlighten me.'

'Really, Rhett? You have no idea? I suppose you expect me to believe that it was a mere coincidence that you kept making us exchange partners while I was surrounded by old men?'

'Oh, is that what you're so irate about?'

'Was there something else?'

Rhett shook his head. 'Not at all, Mrs. Butler. Not at all.'

'So, you admit it?'

'I do.' Rhett said, giving in suspiciously easily. 'Can you blame me, my dear? You look so utterly ravishing in your dress that I simply could not trust any man under the age of sixty to hold you in his arms without trying to take liberties that no married woman should ever have to endure.'

Scarlett felt her lips twitching, but fought to contain her smile. 'You're claiming you were only acting in my best interests?'

'But, of course,' Rhett said, eyes widening in mock offence. 'What other possible motive could I have?'

'I can think of a few.' Scarlett muttered caustically.

'You wound me, Scarlett.' he said, bringing their joined hands up to clutch at his heart in apparent distress. 'As if I, as true and upstanding a gentleman as ever walked God's green earth, would ever dare to put my own desires before those of my wife.'

'You, a gentleman?' Scarlett scoffed. 'Now I really have heard everything.'

'You don't consider me to be one?'

'No, I do not. And you don't, either.'

'Not usually, but, tonight, I fear we'll have to make an exception.' Rhett said. 'After all, we're hosting a frugal, frightfully tasteful party for Atlanta's finest. Not a Scallywag or a scoundrel in sight. What could possibly be more respectable? You, Mrs. Butler, have certainly blossomed into a great lady in honour of the occasion.'

Unprepared for his words, Scarlett missed her next step. Tripping over her own feet, she only avoided falling because Rhett reached out to grab hold of her.

'You don't think I'm a lady.' she said, looking up at him in surprise. 'You've never thought that.'

Rhett rubbed his chin ruefully. 'What can I say? Tonight, you have proved me wrong.'

A great lady. The words echoed inside her head, becoming louder and more insistent by the second. She had wanted to be seen as precisely that ever since she was a child. It had been her greatest wish. Her most impossibly unattainable of dreams.

She knew that she would never be the kind of woman that Ellen had been, yet, she hoped that her mother would have been proud of the person her daughter had grown up to become. That, wherever she was, she would have approved of what she saw.

Scarlett did not often believe it. She knew she was impatient and ill-tempered, often vain and frequently proud, but, on nights such as this, she felt as though she was at least taking a step in the right direction.

Rhett's words gave her hope that her goal may not be quite so unachievable, after all.

Scarlett did not know how to reply. She wanted to say something nice about him in return, but could not think of anything sufficiently good enough to match the magnitude of the compliment he had just paid her. Grand speeches had always been more Rhett's area of expertise. The mere thought of attempting one left Scarlett feeling hopelessly tongue-tied.

In the end, however, she did not have to say anything. Rhett's voice broke through her tumult of thoughts and chased them all away.

'So, tell me, my pet, what exactly did this fortune teller you mentioned say about your future husband.'

Remembering how she had teased him earlier about Mammy Jincy, Scarlett laughed. 'Why, Rhett, you sure do sound mighty curious.'

'I'm merely intrigued, my pet. The art of prophecy has always held a certain fascination for me.'

Scarlett laughed, not believing him for a moment. 'So it's not because you want to hear what Mammy Jincy had to say about you, in particular, then?'

'Ah, so she did speak about me.' Rhett said, his dark eyes sparkling. 'Really, Scarlett, you should not give yourself away so easily. Come, tell me, what did she have to say?'

Scarlett sighed, relenting. She found that she could not deny Rhett after he had called her a great lady, indeed, she did not even want to. 'She told me that one day I'd marry a man with a long moustache and jet black hair. I don't think she was talking about you, though.'

'Why ever not? Going by that description, she could hardly have been referring to Charles. And Frank may have had whiskers, but his hair was certainly not black.'

'No, but your moustache isn't long, either.'

'That can be easily fixed.' Rhett said, looking perfectly serious.

Scarlett smiled. 'I thought you said you had no intention of ever looking like Dr. Meade?'

'That was before I had heard Mammy Jincy's words, Scarlett; now I see that I have no choice.'

'Don't.' Scarlett found herself protesting.

'Don't, what?'

'Don't grow your moustache,' Scarlett said, unable to meet his eyes. 'I like it as it is.'

'Do you, indeed?' Rhett asked, his voice growing huskier. 'Well, then, by all means, I shall keep it this way. I never knew you were so fond of it.'

Scarlett wrinkled up her nose. 'I'm not _fond_ of it. I just don't think you'd suit a longer one, that's all.'

They danced together silently for a few moments before Rhett chuckled lightly to himself.

'What's so funny?' Scarlett asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

'Oh, nothing, my dear.' Rhett smirked. 'Don't you think it odd, though, that when speaking of your future husbands, Mammy Jincy did not even think it worth mentioning the first two?'

'Maybe she didn't have time.' Scarlett suggested. 'If I remember rightly, I think I pushed her off rather quickly. I was sitting on the stairs between Brent and Stu when she came over, and I much preferred to listen to their flattery than to her silly, old fortunes.'

'Hmm, perhaps.' Rhett murmured, barely even pretending to consider it. 'Or, maybe she knew that your third husband would be your favourite.'

'I doubt it,' Scarlett quipped. 'In that case she'd have talked about my fourth husband; I know I'll like him best of all.'

Rhett pulled her closer. 'Is that so?'

'It is.' Scarlett said, feeling flustered. 'He won't tease me like you do.'

'But you like it when I tease you.' Rhett said, his voice dripping with suggestion. His eyes had grown darker the longer they'd been speaking, a heated energy radiating between the pair of them as they moved effortlessly together. Having waltzed with a number of other men, Scarlett found she had a newfound appreciation for her husband's dancing skills.

He moved so gracefully for a man so muscular. It was a heady combination that made her heart beat faster in her chest and her breath catch in her throat.

She could have danced with him all night. She would have, too, if only it had been possible. As it was, they'd already been standing too closely for far too long. Regretfully, Rhett pulled back, and announced that his game had come to an end.

As the couples dispersed, Scarlett found herself caught up in a gaggle of women keen to congratulate her on the success of her crush and recount how much fun they had had whilst dancing.

Mrs. Meade was first in line. She'd danced with Rhett on her penultimate turn, and the experience had clearly affected her. Scarlett thought she looked positively giddy. 'A fine man, your husband,' she said conspiratorially, leaning into Scarlett with a slightly glazed expression. 'A very gifted dancer. And what a room to be able to dance in! I doubt there is a finer one to be had in all of the South.'

Melly was just as eager to share her thoughts with Scarlett. 'You've done such a wonderful job with everything, dear. It's been such a happy evening. I don't remember ever enjoying myself more at a party.'

Scarlett smiled, though her mind was preoccupied. She wondered if she should try and explain to Melanie exactly why she hadn't been able to go with her to the mill that morning, and to ask Melly to pass the information on to Ashley.

She eventually decided against it. Melly wasn't as good with words as she herself was, and Scarlett knew she'd never be able to make Ashley understand. It was something she'd have to do herself. The night was still young. There would be plenty of time to orchestrate a moment alone with him. And once she did, she wouldn't let him leave until he had forgiven her completely. She wouldn't be able to rest, otherwise.

Though notably less effusive in their praise, the old Triumvirate of Mrs. Meade, Mrs. Elsing, and Mrs Whiting did all begrudgingly make their way over to Scarlett to thank her for their invitations and to compliment her on her hosting skills.

Since the hardship of living at Tara during the war, Scarlett had cared far more for making enough money to put food on the table than for maintaining the good opinion of others. She knew only too well that only one of those things had the power to keep her alive and healthy, and it certainly wasn't the friendship of the old cats.

In that moment though, basking in the felicitations of her neighbours, and enjoying some of the most kindly meant words they had ever spoken to her, Scarlett felt their good wishes warm a place inside her that she'd thought long dead.

She had not felt so included in Atlanta's society since the days before Sherman's army had forced her to flee the city. She was surprised to realise how much she had missed it.

Caught up in her thoughts, Scarlett didn't notice the deadly hush that fell gradually over the ballroom. She did not hear the murmurings of shock and anger that began to fill the air, growing louder and more outraged with each passing second. Nor did she see Rhett spin around to face her from halfway across the room, his face paling beneath his tan as he regarded her with disbelieving, accusing eyes.

When she came back to herself, however, it did not take her long to notice the new arrival.

Scarlett smiled.

Rufus Bullock was here.


	25. Chapter 25

'My God.'

'Look who is standing in the doorway!'

'It can't be.'

'It is. It's him.'

'What is _he_ doing here?'

'I said we shouldn't have come! Didn't I tell you something like this was bound to happen? Didn't I say? The Butlers can cover themselves in all the fancy airs and graces they like, but they'll always be trash underneath. This proves it.'

At this last comment, Rhett raised his head from his drink and looked towards the ballroom door. He feared that some of Scarlett's more suspect friends may have decided to join the party. Bridget Flaherty, perhaps, or -God forbid- that insufferable harpy, Mamie Bart.

He could just imagine the sort of frightful ensembles they would have turned up in. It was no wonder the Old Guard's fragile sensibilities had been offended.

When he turned to stare though, he saw that it was so very much worse.

There, at the entrance to the ballroom, stood none other than Rufus Bullock. To add insult to injury, he was accompanied by his most simperingly odious of assistants, a Mr. Edward Taylor.

For a moment, Rhett did not believe what he was seeing. He could not fathom why the Governor would have chosen to attend their gathering. Not when Rhett had taken express measures to ensure he hadn't even received an invitation.

Confused, his eyes sought out Scarlett, and the whole picture took on a sudden, terrible clarity the moment he read her expression. His wife was smiling. More than that, she was preening. Her emerald eyes sparkled like a cat's. A cat which has unexpectedly captured a canary it had feared would escape it's clutches. She did not seem the least bit surprised to see Bullock, indeed, she seemed positively vindicated by his appearance.

The fool, Rhett cursed bitterly. Was she really so laughably ignorant that she did not realise this would be the ruin of her?

The residents of Atlanta may have been seduced by their rare show of frugality and pre-war entertainment, but that would all change the moment they sniffed out the staunch Republican in their midst.

Knowing he had to act fast if the evening was to be in any way salvaged, Rhett hurried over to Scarlett. Bullock's presence was already having an effect. Just moments ago, his wife had been firmly ensconced in a circle of fawning women. Now, she stood alone. Of her former admirers, some, like Mrs. Meade, had virtually crossed to the other side of the room to distance themselves from her, others, like the ever-loyal Mrs. Wilkes, stood hesitating, their faces a perfect mask of dawning horror as they took in the significance of the new arrival.

Rhett pushed past them easily, too set upon his task to pay mind to their shrill cries of protest. 'Did you do this?' he accused angrily once he reached her.

Scarlett frowned, barely looking at him in her haste to go and greet Bullock. 'Did I do what?'

'Invite the Govenor, of course.' Rhett said, clamping his hand down hard on her arm to stop her from escaping. 'Well? Did you?'

Scarlett looked up at him in confusion, clearly not understanding the cause of his urgency. 'As a matter of fact, I did.' She smiled up at him, almost appearing to gloat. 'Aren't you mightily impressed, Rhett? He didn't respond to our invitation, you see, so I thought he wasn't interested, but then I met his assistant -Mr. Thomas, I think- in town one day and he assured me that they'd never received our card. I asked him to pass on the message to his boss directly. And, look! He's here. Just what do you think of that? All those people who dared to look down on us will surely be eating their words now!'

There was so much wrong with that little speech that Rhett scarcely knew where to begin. As it was, there was simply no time to try and educate his wife on the basics of post-war politics. A plan swiftly forming, he settled for trying to save what little was left of her reputation.

'Shout at me.' he instructed.

'What?' Scarlett asked, looking up at him as if he had gone mad.

Perhaps he had. He certainly felt insane, urging Scarlett to create a small scandal in the hope of diffusing a far larger one. 'Act as though I invited him to the party without your knowledge. As if you are furious with me for bringing him here. Shout at me; scream, if you must, but, for God's sake, do it quickly.'

Scarlett stayed mute, staring up at him with hopelessly uncomprehending eyes. Frustrated, Rhett felt the fraying edges of his temper give way completely. Tightening his grip on her arm, he urged her more forcibly, 'Scarlett, listen to me. I need you to trust me. Repeat after me: how dare you bring that awful man into our home!'

'Why should I?' Scarlett hissed, angry now. 'Why are you doing this, Rhett? You're ruining everything!'

'Look around you,' he urged, gesturing quickly to the horrified faces of their guests. 'They all despise Bullock, and they'll despise you even worse if they think you brought him here.'

'But-' Scarlett started to protest.

'No. For once in your life open your Goddam eyes and see what's really there. Look. Look at them!'

Something like comprehension began to dawn slowly in Scarlett's eyes, and Rhett wasted no time in seizing on it. 'Now, repeat after me: how dare you bring that awful man into our home!'

Scarlett, finally catching onto the seriousness of the situation, echoed him faintly.

'Louder,' he hissed. 'Push me away from you.'

'How dare you, Rhett?' she cried, her hands bunching into fists which she buried against his chest, forcing him backwards. 'How dare you bring that horrible man into our home?'

His wife was a truly deplorable actress, but something like real distress entered into her voice and helped to make her performance at least passably convincing.

'I did not ask him here tonight, I swear to you.' Rhett pleaded, his voice low enough to sound natural, but sufficiently loud so that those who were standing closest to them would be able to hear every word. As much as he had loathed the city's grapevine of gossip in the past, now he had no other choice but to depend upon it. 'I know how you despise the Govenor and the whole Republican cause, Scarlett. So do I. But sometimes, in business, we are required to lay down with our enemies as well as our friends. I asked him to visit me tomorrow night. I hoped to use my influence, scant though it is, to try and persuade him to rethink some of his harsher policies. He must have gotten the dates confused. I shall ask him to leave immediately.'

With that, Rhett spun around on his heel, striding across the marble floor to reach Bullock. He stepped out into the corridor and made sure to pull the ballroom doors closed behind him before speaking. 'Rufus, my old friend!' he greeted him warmly, reaching out a hand to clap the man on the back. 'Fancy a drink in my study? I have a bottle of premium scotch that I've been holding off on opening. What do you say we crack it open together?'

'Don't mind if I do, Butler.' he said, slightly warily, as he followed Rhett down the stairs. Mr. Taylor, ever the obedient lapdog, trailed along behind.

'So, to what do we owe this unexpected surprise?' Rhett asked once they were safely holed away in the study, drinking his best scotch. He'd considered the situation from a variety of angles on the short journey from the ballroom, and had decided that a well-worn combination of ignorance and flattery was his best option if he was to deal with both men as swiftly as possible.

Though he could not be seen to push them out of his home, Rhett had no wish to linger here long. He was anxious to return upstairs and smooth the ruffled feathers of the sanctimonious Guinea-hens before they could all turn tail and fly the coop. He did not want to imagine how badly it would hurt Scarlett if they did.

Bullock frowned. 'Unexpected?'

'Not that I ever mind seeing you, my friend, but my wife and I are holding a party for the most staunch of the Old Guard tonight, and I fear your presence may not go down too well. You know how this particular breed of Southerners are; they'd let go of life itself easier than they would a grudge.'

'I'm afraid we seem to be at cross purposes, Butler. Edward informed me that we had been invited here tonight as guests. Why, if I'm not mistaken, your charming wife issued the invitation herself, did she not, Taylor?'

Edward Taylor, puffing his chest out at the mere mention of his name, nodded. 'She most certainly did, Mr. Bullock. Very insistent she was about the matter, too.'

Rhett took a slow sip of scotch and let his forehead crease up in the universal gesture of consternation. 'I think you must have misunderstood. Scarlett was no doubt boasting about the ball to you,' he allowed himself a small chuckle, meeting Bullock's eye in the fond, indulgent way of one put-upon spouse to another. 'She's spoken of little else for the last two months. You know how women can be about such things. I doubt very much that she meant to invite you or your employer along, however. We are having another gathering next week for our friends who hold, how shall we say, more _progressive_ political views. You must have gotten the two events confused.'

Across the desk, Taylor looked pained. His thin face puckering up tightly as if he'd been caught out sucking a lemon. Whether it was the idea of being contradicted, or the pointed reminder that he was a mere employee of Bullock's, that hurt him most, Rhett could not say.

'With all due respect,' he began, 'I really don't think-'

'Nonsense,' Bullock cut across him, slapping his hands down loudly on his knees before draining his glass and heaving himself to his feet. 'There's clearly been an innocent misunderstanding. No harm done. Apologies for interrupting your evening, Butler. I hope we didn't cause too much of a scene. I shall see you next week. Probably safer to send the invitation directly to me, this time. Prevent any further confusion from occurring, eh?'

Rhett laughed. 'I will do. Come, let me show you out.'

The hallway was deserted as they made their way to the front door, Rhett cast a furtive glance over his shoulder towards the upper floors, but saw no one. He hoped that meant everyone was still happily ensconced in the ballroom, Bullock forgotten, but his more cynical side wasn't as easily convinced.

He knew how deeply the residents of Atlanta resented their new governor, how they thought of him as a betrayal of their dearest-held customs and ways of life. He was a usurper, a Scallywag, a profiteer if the grossest order, and much more besides. Despite Rhett's earlier theatrics, there were many among them who would think they had been deliberately tricked into coming tonight. Who would be mortified at the thought of standing under the same roof as him, of even breathing the same air. There were those who would not forgive the Butlers easily for this, if at all.

Sure enough, when Rhett opened the door to see Bullock and Taylor out, he noticed that nearly all of the carriages that had lined the street had now disappeared. Of the few that remained, all were occupied. Peering down the street, he felt his heart sink as he recognised the slim figures of the Wilkes, walking back home. Melanie seemed to be clinging onto her husband's arm tightly, her steps faltering. He suspected that if she was not already in tears, she soon would be.

After saying his goodbyes, Rhett stepped back inside and lent heavily against the closed door. If Melanie had felt duty bound to run away, then it was a sure bet that everyone else had, too. She was Scarlett's truest, if most under-appreciated, of friends. She would not have left her side if there had been any other alternative.

Slowly, he made his way back upstairs. On the second floor he met with the looming figure of Mammy, her aging face a perfect mask of sorrow.

'Dey is gone, Mist' Rhett.'

'I know, Mammy.' he replied, patting her on the shoulder. 'Have you been up to see her?'

Mammy shook her head. He did not blame her. She knew the extent of Scarlett's temper tantrums every bit as well as he himself did. Perhaps better.

For a moment he considered whether it would be preferable to simply turn around and go out for the rest of the night, to let Scarlett's anger and hurt burn itself out through the early hours before returning in the morning when the dust would have had a chance to settle.

His jaw twitched at the thought of going to Belle's. After hours of making nice to his dull, sanctimonious neighbours, he was itching for a drink. God knows he deserved one. It had been over a week since he'd last set foot in that particular establishment, and he could count the number of times he's visited this month on only one hand. Rhett rubbed his chin ruefully, he couldn't scarcely remember a time when he'd seen so little of the place.

He wasn't the only one to have noticed, either. Belle had made a few well-chosen comments on the issue the last time he'd seen her. 'Marriage getting to you, is it, darlin'?' she'd asked, her painted lips pushed together in a mask of friendly concern. 'That wife of yours tightening the noose?'

Rhett hadn't been fooled. He'd spotted the telling hitch in her voice, the slightly nervous edge to her bawdy laugh. She was jealous of Scarlett, she always had been, but there was something else there now too. Something deeper. A dawning fear that she was beginning to lose him.

He'd known what she had been fishing for, of course. She'd been hoping he'd reply with a jeer, that he'd make some throwaway remark about Scarlett -the crueller, the better- before taking Belle upstairs to demonstrate to her and anyone else watching just how loosely the ties of matrimony bound him.

He hadn't, naturally. Not only was he not willing to betray Scarlett physically, he found that he did not want to be seen speaking ill of her either. Even if she would never hear of it. Even if it would put Belle's mind at ease.

She had been a good friend to him over the years, had Belle, and he cared about her deeply, in a way that he had cared for very few people in his life, but he would never love her, not like he loved Scarlett. Perhaps it was time she understood that.

Deciding it would be kinder to her if he stayed away, Rhett dismissed the idea of going out for a drink. Instead, taking his leave of Mammy, he squared his shoulders and headed upstairs to the ballroom.

Even though he had seen the guests leaving with his own eyes, a part of him still hoped he had been mistaken. He wanted nothing more than to open the doors to find everyone just as he had left them, milling around happily, their cheeks still flushed from a heady combination of drinking and dancing.

It was not to be.

The ballroom which had so recently rebounded with laughter and noise was entirely silent. The cavernous room seemed to mock him with its very emptiness, the debris of the ill-fated crush littering the tables and floor like the aftermath of an earthquake.

Rhett scanned the space quickly, frowning when he realised Scarlett was nowhere to be found. In the tumult of all the guests leaving, Mamy must have missed Scarlett's escape. Turning on his heel, he left to go and find her.

He tried their bedroom first, but found it empty. He checked the dining room next, knowing that she often liked to retreat there to partake in a glass of brandy. When that, too, proved unsuccessful, Rhett went searching for her in the sitting room, the kitchen, his study, and the upstairs rooms. As a last ditch attempt to find her, he even tried the nursery. Unsurprisingly, she wasn't there.

He was, however, pleased to see that Wade was sleeping peacefully after the earlier debacle with his dog.

Speaking of Charlie, the mutt raised his massive head to watch Rhett with eager, curious eyes as he looked around the room. 'Lie down!' Rhett whispered sternly when he started to heave himself up onto his paws. 'Charlie, lie down!'

Never one to take instruction, Charlie stretched and ambled over to the doorway, his tail wagging happily as he stared up at Rhett in a blatant demand to be petted.

'Uncle Rhett?' Ella yawned, rubbing at her eyes as she turned over in her cot to face him.

 _Perfect_ , Rhett sighed, patting Charlie's head before pushing him aside. 'Go back to sleep, love.' he crooned, crouching down beside Ella's pillow. 'It's late.'

'Mother?' Ella asked, craning her neck to peer around him as if expecting to see Scarlett emerge from out of the darkness. Rhett found himself wishing that she would.

'She's sleeping soundly.' he said. 'And she'd want you to be doing the same.'

Ella nodded, accepting this with the guileless trust only the young, and Melanie Wilkes, seemed capable of. Snuggling down again beneath the covers, she shut her eyes. Rhett sat watching her for a time, the thought of Melanie planting a horrible suspicion deep within his mind.

Could Scarlett have left the house? It seemed unlikely, and yet he knew only too well that one should never underestimate her. Especially not where a certain gentleman was concerned. That she would seek comfort with that man, above and before himself, struck Rhett like a hard blow to the chest, winding him.

His treacherous mind chose this moment to assault him with images from earlier on in the night, replaying the moment when Scarlett had begun to track Ashley's movements across the dance floor, determined to partner him. He'd foiled her plans easily enough, but the underlying attraction, her eternal, bullheaded desire to be close to him, that he had been unable to quash. He did not want to admit that perhaps he never would.

Stroking a hand gently across Ella's brow, he left her to her slumber. He'd search the house once more before conceding defeat. If he did not find her, he would have no choice but to try the Wilkes'. Although, if he did find her there, he was almost afraid of what he might do to both her and her precious beloved.

After scouring the downstairs rooms, he made his way back to their bedroom, hoping he would find her laying safely upon the bed. His heart sank when he saw it was empty. Turning around, he made to leave the room when a loud, crashing sound cut through the still night air.

Rushing across the room to the wardrobe, Rhett threw open the door to find Scarlett stood in front of the full-length mirror. It was shattered. Her hand, clenched into a shaking, straining fist, was bleeding lightly, the knuckles red and already swelling.

Her black hair was streaming down the length of her back. Her dress was a rumpled heap at her feet, the laces of her corset in disarray, as if she had been tugging at them fiercely, desperate to be free.

Wanting to help her, he stepped forward. The movement made her head rise up with a startled jerk. Rhett looked at Scarlett through the mirror, but he barely recognised her. The cracked fragments reflected her face back towards him a dozen times over. All of them beautiful. All of them broken.


	26. Chapter 26

_To the guest reviewer who requested mirror sex: I hope this lives up to your expectations. To everyone else: there is a reasonable-sized chunk of character development slotted in there amongst the naughty stuff, I swear!_

 _Thanks for reading, and, as always, reviews are welcomed (not to mention shamelessly begged for)._

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Scarlett stared at Rhett in the mirror. At his thick brows curved over widened, worried eyes; at the way he started to move towards her before abruptly pulling back. Seeing his concern, she fought the urge to laugh. _A_ _great_ _lady_ , that's what he'd called her the last time they'd spoken.

She wondered what words he'd use to describe her now.

At that moment, her knuckles gave a pulsing throb, and she brought them up to her face, studying the broken, bruised skin with something akin to fascination. She hardly remembered slamming them into the glass. Less still having to pull a small, pointed shard from her bleeding hand when the force of the blow made the mirror shatter. The reason behind her sudden peak of temper though, that she remembered only too well. For the first time since the day Scarlett O'Hara had turned fifteen and realised what a pretty picture she made, she had taken no pleasure in her reflection. Indeed, the sight of herself, dressed up in all her finery, trapped by stays that suddenly felt much too tight, had made something inside her snap.

Scarlett had found herself wanting to destroy her image. She'd started with her hair. Yanking the pins and grips from her head, she'd grown frustrated when some of them had stubbornly refused to come loose. Tugging harder, she'd ripped them out harshly, along with the strands of hair they'd been attached to. Already moving on to strip away her dress, and tear at the laces of her corset with clumsy, shaking fingers, she'd barely even noticed the stinging of her abused scalp.

Behind her eyes, images of what had taken place after Rhett's departure from the ballroom played themselves out on an endless, merciless loop. Each time she blinked, she saw flashes of Mrs. Merriweather's cold disdain; Dr. Meade's red-faced indignation; India's gloating triumph.

Worst of all though, was Ashley's quiet judgement. He had not shouted like some of the other guests, had not sneered at her as he'd raced to escape the room, but his silence had cut her viciously just the same.

She hoped that it had not been his choice to leave. That it had been Melanie's tender sensibilities that had caused her to entreat her more forgiving, understanding husband to take her home. She so dearly wanted to believe that he would not have left her side if there had been any other option available to him.

What was it that Rhett had said to her shortly after Bullock's arrival though? _'Open your eyes and see what's really there_.' How she wished she had not listened. That she'd simply ignored his words as she had so often done in the past.

Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have recognised the stern clench of Ashley's jaw for what it was: condemnation.

The mere thought of it seemed to suck all the air from her lungs, suffocating her, and reaching around, she clawed once more at the laces of her corset, desperate to be free.

Her fingernails stratched hopelessly at the material, and she growled in anger, stamping her foot with so much force that it sent a jarring, hot flash of pain shooting up the inside of her ankle.

'Let me.' Rhett said softly, his deep voice barely registering over the incessant buzzing in her ears. His fingers brushed against the delicate skin of her wrist for a moment, raising goose-pimples, before Scarlett hurried to pull her hands away. She wondered how it should be that, even now, when she could barely feel the pain radiating from her poor, abused knuckles, the patch of skin her husband had so briefly touched should burn as though it had been set aflame.

After yearning to be released from it, Scarlett now shivered unhappily as Rhett pulled her corset away from her body. She felt exposed standing there before him in nothing but her chemise and underthings. Shorn of the prestige and rightful sense of entitlement the crush was supposed to have conveyed upon her, it was as though she had had her top layer of skin peeled entirely away, leaving her feeling naked and uncomfortably raw to the touch.

She could sense Rhett at her back; the solid, powerful weight of him bearing down upon her shorter frame. It made her feel small and horribly young to stand in front of him like this, vulnerable in a way she had not been since that long gone day outside Twelve Oakes, when she'd sobbed into the soil during the darkest period of the entire war.

The armour she had learnt to cloak herself in since then, the defences she had painstakingly built around her, their foundations rooted so deeply that they'd kept out even those she'd secretly wished to let inside, were gone now; torn away by a loathed Governor and a Southern people who would rather turn their back on her forever than stay and face up to him.

'You're shaking.' Rhett said, gentle hands curving over the wings of her hip bones, holding her still. 'Come to bed, Scarlett. You must be exhausted.'

 _I_ _am_ , she wanted to confide in him, but the tattered remains of her pride would not allow the words to leave her lips. Even now, shamed and defeated as she was, she could not bring herself to admit the extent of her suffering, afraid that he would take advantage of her plight. Or, worse still, laugh at it.

She would die if he did. Die right there and then, half-dressed in front of a broken mirror in her bedroom wardrobe. Then they'd all be sorry.

Or, then again, perhaps they wouldn't. Perhaps they'd think she'd gotten exactly what she deserved. _You reap what you sow, Puss. And don't you forget it,_ that's what her dear old Pa had used to say to her when they'd stood together in the early evenings, basking in the balmy glow of the setting sun and looking out across the rich, red earth of Tara's cotton fields.

Only she had forgotten, hadn't she? She must have, for she'd certainly never intended to reap such a miserable fate as this. Her neighbours all turned against her, her beloved crush ruined, Ashley-

Scarlett shook her head, ridding her mind of such thoughts. She shivered harder, and felt Rhett's grip tighten in response. She was cold and tired, so tired that she thought she might collapse onto the floor at any moment were Rhett not there to hold her up. She wished he would embrace her more closely, would swallow her up in his large arms and hide her away from everything she no longer felt strong enough to face.

Not tonight, at least. Tomorrow it would be different. Tomorrow she'd be restored to her old, fighting self. She just needed these few, precious hours to herself before the sun rose and demanded she go back out into a world that suddenly felt that little bit harsher, that little bit more lonely. She needed this one night to let herself be weak, to draw strength and comfort from someone stronger, someone whose life force she could feed off until her own returned.

She remembered the study, and how he'd touched her. How she'd revelled in it, feeling desired and beautiful and alive. She sorely needed to feel that way again now, if only for a little while.

Lifting her hands, Scarlett placed them over Rhett's. Her body was still wracked with tremors, but they were slowing now that she a plan, a clear target in her sights. Slipping her slim fingers into the spaces between his, she pulled so that their joined hands slid across the sheer silk of her chemise, skimming across her stomach until they met in the middle, fingertip to fingertip.

The warmth of his skin pooled in her lower belly, chasing away the sickly, jittery feeling of unease that had taken up home there. Relieved, Scarlett relaxed back into Rhett's broad chest, the top of her head fitting snugly beneath the jut of his chin.

'Scarlett?' he breathed, raising an eyebrow in question. Defiantly, she raised her chin, and their eyes met a dozen times over in the shattered glass before them.

Too tired to hide her expression, Scarlett stared straight into her husband's dark eyes, falling into their depths, and watching as they widened in sudden understanding.

'Bed?' he murmured, dragging his jaw along her cheek until he could whisper the word directly into her ear. It had been many hours now since his morning shave, and the slight stubble on his chin stratched against her delicate skin, leaving a hot, fiery trail in its wake.

'No.' she said, balking at the idea. She didn't want to lie down on their mattress. To slip between the same crisp, white sheets they had emerged from only this morning, back when nothing had yet to go wrong. She didn't want to be reminded of everything she'd lost since then. Instead, she wanted it here, like this, with Rhett looking at her, knowing exactly what she was. Who she was. Knowing it, and wanting her still, when everyone else had long since run away.

'Scarlett?' Rhett asked.

Scarlett scowled, annoyed that he was being so damn slow on the uptake. She wanted him to make the decisions, to take charge, so that she wouldn't have to. She didn't trust herself to know what was best for her. Not anymore.

For, despite everything that had happened, she still didn't truly understand why everyone had reacted so badly to Bullock's sudden appearance. Yes, the man was a no-good Republican. Yes, under his leadership Reconstruction was hitting the old ways harder than they'd like. Yet, none of that changed the fact that he was the Governor. That, as Governor, he had seen fit to attend her party. Surely even the most bull-headed of the Old Guard could recognise that for the mark of distinction it undoubtedly was?

Scarlett was certain that Ellen would have understood. That she'd have thought more of her eldest daughter for having him there. The people of Atlanta had always been too proud for their own good, though. She'd used to love the city's brashness when she'd first arrived here, but now she found herself despairing at it. The place had no respect, no appreciation for those in high office. Everyone here thought so much of themselves that they couldn't bear the idea that others might be a far sight greater still.

If they had, they'd have realised that having Bullock at the crush was a honour, not an insult; that it made the party better. That it made Scarlett better, too, by bringing her closer to her mother. If the crush had gone without a hitch, then both women would have been revered for their successful hosting skills, famed for filling their parties with only the most esteemed of guests.

As it was, only Rhett had made the connection. He'd seen her, just for a moment, the way she'd always longed to be seen. She wanted him to see her again now, as someone who was strong, confident, and desirable. She needed him to make her feel that way, in order to reassure herself that not everything she held dear had been destroyed in the aftermath of her ill-fated crush.

Letting go of his hands, Scarlett reached down and slipped her underthings past her thighs, letting them fall onto the floor and lie against her feet.

'Like this.' she whispered, meeting his eye.

'Scarlett.' Rhett repeated, voice low. Only this time her name didn't sound like a question.

He'd wanted this very thing for a long time, she knew he had. Often, during the times they'd spent lying down together he had moved to touch her like this, only to have her pull away. She'd always worried that it would be too much, too unladylike, too vulgar. Not anymore. If everyone thought badly of her anyway, then she might as well enjoy the benefits of her sudden fall from grace.

She sighed softly to herself as Rhett's left hand began to inch steadily downwards. His right stayed where it was, pinned up against her stomach as though keeping her in place.

Old habits dying hard, Scarlett flinched slightly when his long fingers dipped beneath the hem of her chemise, tickling along the milky white skin of her inner thigh. She felt Rhett pause at the movement, about to pull back, and did the only thing she could think of to stop him. She moved her feet so that they bracketed his, parting her legs further in a silent demand for more.

Rhett's face was pressed up closely against the side of hers, his longer body curling across her back so that they became almost the same height. It was because of this that Scarlett could feel his every breath, the approving rumble that began in his chest vibrating through her entire body before it made its way up her husband's throat, leaving his mouth as a husky, punched-out groan.

Underneath her chemise, his fingers grew surer. They stroked gently across shivering skin, back and forth, back and forth, until her flesh grew slick and flush, begging for what her mouth could not.

The entire time, Rhett's eyes never left hers for a single second. They seared into her soul, tracking her every expression and mood, intent only on bringing her pleasure.

It was a heady thing, to have someone like Rhett devote themselves entirely to her needs, and as his hand came to rest upon her most intimate place, Scarlett threw back her head and moaned, overcome with the intensity of the moment.

'Look at me, Scarlett.' Rhett urged, pressing against her more firmly, his palm rocking from side to side, setting off a spark of pure sensation deep inside of her.

Screwing her eyes shut, Scarlett shook her head. She couldn't look at him. It was too much.

'Scarlett, look at me,' he said again, more insistent this time. 'Look at me, or I'll stop.' Sure enough, the coarse rub of his calloused palm slowed, and Scarlett had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from moving her lower body against it instead.

Dazed, she opened her eyes, blinking against the low light seeping in from the bedroom as if it were the brightest sunshine. Lowering her head, she caught his eye once more in the mirror, a blush heating her cheeks when she saw how debauched she looked.

Draped across Rhett's chest, her thighs spread, her fingers gripping into the hand Rhett still held against her stomach, Scarlett made a scandalous picture. Part of her rebelled against what she saw, refusing to believe it, but before she could even think about tearing herself away, Rhett's hand resumed its ministrations, and she collapsed back against him bonelessly, her mouth falling open in a crimson oval of ecstasy.

He stroked her intimately, his fingers brushing against a spot that made her toes clench and her vision grow blurred and fuzzy.

'Does that feel good?' he asked her hoarsely when one particularly well placed caress caused her to jolt in his arms as if struck.

Scarlett struggled to nod, the muscles in her neck refusing to do as she asked. Everything now, with the sole exception of his touch, felt heavy and strangely muted, as if she were submerged in an ocean of thick molasses, even the smallest movement requiring an almost monumental effort.

It took some determination, but eventually she managed to give a shaky jerk of her head. Instantly, Rhett's attentions narrowed, his fingers, surprisingly nimble for being so broad and capable, tracing tantalisingly over her secret spot. He rolled her own flesh over it, again and again, massaging her sweet, aching need, stoking the flames so that they rose higher still.

'Rhett,' she breathed, a low moan escaping her throat as she felt herself beginning to teeter along the edge of the precipice.

'Wrap your arms around my neck,' he encouraged, shaking the hand resting on her stomach loose so that her own fell free. The skin she had been clutching onto so tightly bloomed red, the rows of tiny, white crescent moons, from where she had dug in harshly with her nails, standing out sharply in comparison.

As she lifted her arms, Rhett's hand moved from her stomach to hug her waist, anchoring her to him. Slipping her hands up behind his neck, Scarlett gripped the soft hairs of his nape, running them through her fingers.

'Look at you,' Rhett said admiringly, tempting Scarlett to look at herself in the mirror once more. She barely recognised the woman staring back at her. Where, just minutes before, she had been bowed by the events of the crush, her face pinched and back bent, now she stood tall, stretched out sinuously against Rhett, her face lax; blissful.

No longer shamed, but shameless.

'You're stunning, Scarlett.' Rhett said, echoing her own thoughts and allaying the last of her worries.

Turning his head, he pressed sultry, open-mouthed kisses up the side of her neck, his tongue peeking out to lick at her sensitive earlobe, sucking it inside.

Scarlett heard herself whimper, the sound coming to her as if from very far away. Her thighs were starting to clench, the urge to close her legs around Rhett's hand and trap him there becoming almost unbearable.

Her eyes fell shut, unable to keep watching the elicit scene play itself out from inside the mirror.

'Keep them open,' Rhett commanded, nipping at her lobe in a teasing reprimand.

'I can't, Rhett.' Scarlett groaned, dropping one arm down from his neck to press against the hand between her legs, pushing him against her harder, faster. Needing more.

'You can,' he promised. 'Open your eyes and look at me, Scarlett. Watch yourself come undone, and never doubt who it is that's doing this to you.'

Forcing her eyelids apart, Scarlett watched the man in the mirror. Watched the muscles of his tanned forearm strain and tense as his fingers moved against her. Watched as the leaping light in his eyes licked against the edges of his dark irises, threatening to break out and burn their whole world to cinders. She watched him watch her, watched him want her, until the pleasure grew so great that she could do nothing but cry out helplessly into the night, writhing against him like a wild thing.

He kept his hand moving as the sensation peaked, extending her enjoyment until it gently faded away, leaving only a sated sort of peace in its wake.

Scarlett slumped forwards, and Rhett swept her up into his embrace, carrying her carefully over to the untouched bed.

Scarlett sighed as he laid her down upon it, pulling back the covers before tucking them up around her chin. The sheets were cool, and she stretched out across them gratefully, her skin flushed and sticky with sweat.

A hand brushed against her cheek, tracing over her bottom lip, swollen and sore from having been bitten down on so forcibly, before moving across to circle the dimple that appeared when she broke out into a smile.

'Where are you going?' Scarlett asked, frowning, when Rhett pulled back.

'Just undressing, my pet. Though I fear these trousers are now creased beyond all repair.'

'In that case,' Scarlett teased, reaching for him. 'You won't mind sleeping in them.'

She pulled him to her, and Rhett came easily, offering only a token protest. 'Can't you bear to be parted from me for even a minute, Mrs. Butler?'

'Oh, hush up, you conceited thing.' Scarlett chided, hitting him in the chest before moving to lay her head against it.

The reassuring pounding of his heartbeat, boomed hollowly beneath her ear, and Scarlett measured her breathes against it. It calmed her to feel the two of them breathing as one; a physical reminder that, for now at least, they were on the same page, united against the rest of the community with their old-fashioned views and petty, judgemental attitudes.

She knew instinctively that Rhett was squarely on her side this time, and she couldn't think of a more formidable ally. And, if his last words to her had hit surprisingly close to the mark, then who was to tell? Certainly not her.

Curling into him, Scarlett closed up her eyes and bid a glad farewell to today, safe in the knowledge that tomorrow no longer needed to be feared.


	27. Chapter 27

_This was shaping up to be a really short chapter until it suddenly went all NSFW on me, and the word count jumped up by a couple of thousand. Still, I think we can all agree that Rhett is long overdue something in return for all his selflessness! Hope you enjoy. As always, reviews are treasured._

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Despite the relief her encounter with Rhett had given her, Scarlett did not sleep easily that night. Chased through her dreams by the thick, choking fog of old, she'd run for what had felt like hours, desperately seeking a safe haven that she feared would never come.

Running hard, she put her hand out to bat the fog away, using her outstretched arm to shield her face from the worst of it. Her elbow connected with something hard and solid, and she jumped backwards in fright, her eyes snapping wide. In all the time she had suffered through this nightmare, never had she found something in the fog. She stared at it now in disbelief, watching as the mist cleared away to reveal the mirror from her wardrobe.

It stood in front of her, no longer broken, reflecting back a picture of herself as she had been many years ago. Her face was fresh, untouched by either the starvation of war or the hardships of the years that had followed it. Her cheeks were plump, her young body cloaked in the pale blue dress that had been a present from her parents when she'd first turned fourteen.

Scarlett smiled, admiring herself, and turned to glance behind her, hoping to see Rhett appear as he had hours before. She thought herself pretty, and wanted to see the confirmation in his dark eyes. She grew frustrated when he didn't come, and called out to him loudly, stopping when a tall silhouette detangled itself from the fog and came towards her.

As the figure drew closer, she felt a strange pang of disappointment wash over her when she realised it wasn't Rhett who had answered her call, but rather Ashley. Ashley, dressed just as he had been the day she'd watched him ride up the hill to Tara, returning in triumph from his Grand Tour. Decked out in the same grey broadcloth with a wide black cravat, he smiled at her now.

So powerfully was the memory of that day seared onto her heart, she could almost feel the heat of the midday sun burning down onto Tara's cotton fields. The same sun that had caught his blond hair as he'd alighted from his horse, making it shimmer like the steel of a knight's armour.

'So you've grown up, Scarlett.' Ashley had said, when he'd spotted her. She did not know why, but it had pleased her that he'd thought so. For the first time in her life, she'd found herself making a conscious effort to rise gracefully, to stand tall and smile so that her dimples flashed. The need to make a good impression overtaking her; consuming her.

It was this Ashley that greeted her now in the mirror. A younger, lighter Ashley than the one she'd seen at the crush, as though the strains of the last decade had been wiped utterly clean, rendering him fresh and beautiful once more.

She'd forgotten how regal he'd looked back then, untouched by the cruelty of a world far too harsh for someone of his fine breeding and tender sensibilities. If she stared at him long enough she could almost take herself back to that afternoon when she'd first fallen. It was so long ago now, and yet she could still feel it. That first, joyous pang of love, striking her straight through the heart and rippling outwards until even her fingertips had fizzled, her blood singing in her veins.

He was meant to be hers. She'd known it as truly and as clearly as she knew her own name. Scarlett O'Hara. Although, that would soon have changed to Mrs. Scarlett Wilkes if only she'd been able to have her way.

She smiled sweetly at him in the mirror, reliving their shared youth. He reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her waist in a prefect echo of the embrace Rhett had engaged her in earlier. Unlike Rhett though, Ashley's hold was a trifle too tight, his thin fingers pinching slightly into the skin above her hip. She opened her mouth to say so, only to end up gasping in terror instead.

Ashley's face, so fine and noble, had begun to melt in the mirror, growing older and more careworn before her very eyes. In a matter of seconds, his eyes lost their light, his skin grew loose and wan, and his hair wilted from gold to grey. He stared at her now, not with delight, but disdain. His lips curled up in contempt as he looked at her, just as they had done in the moments before he'd left the ballroom, ushering a regretful Melanie along after him. Horrified, she turned her face away.

'Look at me,' he commanded, breath cold against her cheek.

Jerking her head back towards him, Scarlett watched on as he moved his hand and placed it on her stomach, his fingers inching slowly upwards until they came to a stop at centre of her chest.

They stayed there, hovering, before curving into a claw and digging down into her skin. Reaching inside, he pulled out her still-beating heart and squeezed it in his fist; breaking it.

As she stared at him, wide-eyed and shaking, he laughed and wiped the pulpy mess now covering his hand across the front of his grey broadcloth, smearing the fabric she'd so loved and revered with dark blood stains.

'Does that feel good, Scarlett?' he asked. 'Does it?'

The fog starting to roll back in, thicker and blacker than ever, Scarlett watched as he raised his hand one last time. The mirror shattered under the force of his blow, the glass, and the image of that younger, idealised Ashley it had contained, falling away to nothing. The jagged shards disappeared into the rising, swirling mist, and were lost forever.

-LIL-

Jerking upright in her bed, her mouth open in a silent scream, Scarlett clutched her own hands against her chest, sagging in relief as she felt her heartbeat hammering, frantic but unhurt, against her ribcage.

Quickly, she scrambled out of bed, and hurried over to the window. Pulling it open, she thrust her head out and inhaled deeply, drinking in the chilly pre-dawn air as she fought to slow her breathing back down to normal.

She'd almost succeeded when she felt a hand fall upon her back. The memory of her dream resurfacing, she flinched violently away.

'Scarlett?'

Expecting Ashley, it took her a few moments to recognise the voice of the man speaking. 'Rhett?'

'I should hope so, my pet.' he said, a touch of amusement colouring his concern. 'It's almost four in the morning. Tell me, are you in the habit of inviting other men into your bedchamber at this time?'

Blinking hard to clear her head, Scarlett barely even heard him, much less understood his words.

'Come and sit down,' he said, wrapping a hand around her forearm to guide her over to the bed. 'It's cold here by the window.'

Feeling stifled, Scarlett pulled away. 'Get off me! I need air. I can't breathe.'

Turning back to the window, she lent her head outside, and greedily gulped down great mouthfuls of air. Her panic slowly subsiding, she pressed her clammy forehead up against the cool, smooth wood of the window frame. The loose strands of her hair played softly in the breeze, and she watched them for a few minutes, grateful for the distraction.

When she came back to herself it was to find that Rhett had moved away to sit in the chair over in the corner, his seemingly casual sprawl somewhat undermined by the pinched, strained tilt of his jaw. 'Better?' he asked, eyeing her worriedly.

Exhausted now that the adrenaline was beginning to seep from her body, leaving her limp and shaken in its wake, Scarlett could only nod. Shutting the window, she ran her hands up and down her arms, rubbing away the goose pimples that had appeared. She watched on as Rhett pulled a cigar from the case propped up on the bedside cabinet, his fingers stroking over it almost sensually before he placed it between open lips. A match flickered to life, the small flame dancing in the gloom of the bedroom like a firefly caught on a drowsy evening breeze.

She thought he looked warm and inviting, sitting there still dressed in his trousers and open shirt, and part of her wanted nothing more than to run to him and curl up snugly in his lap, to tuck her face up under his chin and have him cradle her close.

Her pride wouldn't allow it though, and she may well have stood there hesitating until sunrise if Rhett hadn't opened his arms and called for her to go over to him. Feigning a reluctance she certainly didn't feel, Scarlett walked across the room and sunk down, relieved, into his embrace.

'Was it your old nightmare?' he asked, pulling her against him. He lifted the cigar from his lips as he spoke, releasing a lazy circle of white smoke into the air around them. It had floated up towards the ceiling and disappeared in the time that Scarlett took to answer him.

'Yes.' she whispered, her face pressed in so near to his neck that her lips brushed against his bare skin.

'The one with the fog?'

'Yes.' she said, shivering slightly as the sensation of running helplessly through the cloying mist threatened to overtake her once again.

There was a beat of silence, heavy and almost expectant, before he next spoke. 'Did you find anything in it?'

Scarlett closed her eyes, remembering a time when they had sat just like this, in a chair in a hotel suite in New Orleans. She'd forgotten just how much she'd confessed to him about her nightmare while they were away on honeymoon. Now she remembered confiding that she often felt there was something in the mist that she was seeking, something or someone waiting there, silent and steadfast, to be found by her.

She opened her mouth to tell him about Ashley and the mirror, before thinking better of it, and remaining silent. Since she'd first started having the nightmare she'd always assumed that Ashley would be the one to save her from it. That, one day, she would find him amongst the fog and be safe forevermore. It made sense that it would work that way. During the war, the thought of Ashley had often been the only thing that had kept her going, kept her fighting, when all she really wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry.

Now that he had finally come to her though, she wished he had not. For the Ashley of her nightmare was nothing like the Ashley of her daydreams. He did not smile or clutch her to his chest in a flush of raw emotion. He did not kiss her soundly before declaring his undying love. The Ashley she had seen in the mirror had been rough and cruel and ugly, he had scared and hurt her, and she did not know if she'd ever be able to see him in quite the same way again.

She felt hollow and cold inside, fearing that the vision of him that she had carried with her since that day on the porch outside Tara was now as shattered and tarnished as the mirror he'd destroyed shortly after ripping out her heart.

'No,' she said instead, shaking her head. 'I didn't find anything.'

For once Rhett did not call her on the lie, perhaps because her answer held more than a modicum of truth. She did not feel as though she had found anything in the fog, only lost it.

'Don't let it upset you.' Rhett said, sounding oddly hopeful. 'Perhaps you will in time.'

Scarlett flinched, not liking the idea. 'I doubt it.'

'Oh?'

'There's nothing there to find. Nothing good, anyway. It's just a silly dream, Rhett. A reminder of a time I'd much rather forget. I hate it! I hope I never have it again.'

'Hush now, don't fret.' Rhett soothed, fingers stroking through her rumpled curls. 'The war haunts all of us, Scarlett. One way or another. The trick is learning how to live around it, to gain control over the memories, so that they become a mere part of you you, rather than the whole. Those who let themselves become slaves to the past can have no present of future, Scarlett; remember that.'

Scarlett wrinkled up her nose. Rhett's words sounded like a load of old nonsense to her. Control her nightmares? Why, if she knew how to do that, she'd have stopped having them years ago!

'Are you ready to go back to bed now, my dear? I have to be up early to start resolving this issue with Governor Bullock, and a hard back chair isn't often considered to be conducive to a good night's sleep.'

'What are you going to do about Bullock?' Scarlett asked, feeling a dark shadow pass over her at the very sound of his name.

'Well, first I intend to put it about in all the right places that Mr. Bullock was an unintended, unwanted guest at our little crush. Then, in case people doubt my sincerity, I shall make a substantial donation to the Democratic campaign fund. So substantial, in fact, that I'd be surprised if they don't get down on their hypocritical, money-loving knees and beg me to become the next candidate for the governorship myself.'

Scarlett scowled, unhappy about the idea of him giving away their hard-earned money. What annoyed her even more was the fact that she couldn't even upbraid him for it. It was her fault, after all, that they were in this mess. How she wished she could go back in time and simply walk past Mr. Thomas when she spotted him on the street. Everything would have been turned out so much better, if only she had never spoken to that wretched man. The crush would have been a resounding success. Her neighbour's would have been singing her praises for days, if not weeks, to come. Ashley-

Ashley would have been the same as he had always been. She did not yet know what he was to her now.

'I think it would also be prudent if you were to pay a visit to Mrs. Wilkes tomorrow, Scarlett.'

'Go and see Melly?' Scarlett asked, shivering slightly at the thought of calling round there. What if she were to see Ashley? It was too soon after her dream, she wasn't ready yet. 'Whatever for?'

'You know as well as I do that where Mrs. Wilkes leads, the rest of this town dutifully follows. If she wanted, she could rename herself the pied piper of Atlanta, so skilled is she in the art of persuading others to take up her cause. It is also true that, despite a wealth of evidence to the contrary, Melanie naively believes that you can do no wrong.'

Scarlett huffed, annoyed by his less than flattering assessment. She made to extricate herself from his hold, but he was too fast for her. Tightening his arms, he pulled her against him and murmured, 'Smooth your ruffled feathers, my dear. You know it's true. And, what's more, you should be damned grateful for it. Thanks to her faith in you, it shouldn't take much effort on your part to convince her that you had nothing to do with Bullock's sudden appearance. Play the wronged party, Scarlett, pretend to cry if you have to, but don't leave there before you have her firmly back on side.'

Scarlett frowned, the idea of weeping in front of a mouse like Melly, even if only for show, not sitting right with her. 'I'll do what I have to.' she pledged grudgingly, determined it wouldn't come to that. Melanie was such a goose that she'd no doubt eat up anything Scarlett fed her, no matter how improbable.

'Bed?' Rhett said, a few minutes later. He moved to stub out his cigar and, turning back, ran the fleshy pads of his fingers down the side of her cheek. Scarlett leaned into the caress and nodded tiredly, suppressing a yawn. She'd grown so comfortable curled up in Rhett's lap that she was halfway to falling asleep when he picked her up in his arms and carried her across the floor to the bed.

Settling down between the sheets, Scarlett stretched languidly and watched with drowsy eyes as Rhett stopped to strip off his shirt and trousers. His skin seemed darker than ever against the ghostly pall of the moonlight, the muscles in his chest rippling like waves over a turbulent sea as he bent to pick up his clothes and throw them carelessly onto the chair.

'What is it?' he asked when he caught her staring, his relaxed pose growing instantly alert.

'Nothing.' she muttered, embarrassed, as she pulled her gaze away.

When he moved to lay down beside her, she was careful to wait a few minutes before turning on her side to face him, fearful of appearing too eager. Rhett, it seemed, had no such qualms, tugging her into his arms and resting his forehead lightly against hers.

Her arm was trapped beneath her side, and she squirmed slightly trying to release it, accidentally brushing her hip up against his groin as she struggled.

She pulled back quickly, yet not so quickly that she didn't feel him begin to harden at the intimate contact.

'Scarlett,' he breathed huskily, reaching for her.

She pulled away without thinking. It had been a long day, and she was weary. She did not feel up to engaging in marital relations so soon after the horror of her dream. As she started backwards, however, her hand swept across the place her hip had touched, and Rhett groaned. It was a punched-out, almost desperate sound, unlike any she had ever heard him make before. The echo of it reverberated through Scarlett, making her shiver.

A series of images flashed across her mind, bright and burning as meteors, as she remembered how he'd touched her in front of the mirror. He had used only his hand, and yet she had felt a pleasure so great that it defied all reason. She wondered now, for the very first time, if such a thing would be possible in reverse.

It was a scandalous notion, and yet it appealed to some coarse, long-held desire that resided deep within her. After all, had she not always fantasied about bringing the great Rhett Butler to his knees, one way or another? The idea of rendering him so vulnerable and exposed, of forcing him to yield to his baser instincts while she herself remained in control and completely immune, was a heady one, and it prompted her to move her hand shakily over him once more.

'Scarlett,' he bit out, front teeth lodged firmly into his plump bottom lip as if to prevent himself from crying out further.

Scarlett smirked, revelling in her newfound power, and teased over the length of him a third time, her fingers moving more slowly now, determined to make him lose his cool and surrender to her utterly.

Quick as a flash, his hands came down over hers. At first, she though he meant to stop her, and opened her mouth to protest, but then she gleaned his true intention and her eyes glinted like warm emeralds in their triumph.

With shaking fingers he fumbled with his underwear, pulling it down his thick thighs and kicking it impatiently down towards the bottom of the bed. Bare now, his member curved up towards his stomach, flushing an angry shade of red towards the tip.

Surprised, Scarlett could not help but stare. She had rarely seen him so clearly, and certainly never so close. Slowly, with a degree of nervous fascination, she extended her hand back down, and ran her fingers upwards from the base, tracing along a large vein.

Rhett grunted, the noise catching in his throat, as his eyes slipped shut.

Encouraged, Scarlett repeated the motion, enjoying the way he seemed to jerk and bob in response to her touch.

'Have you ever-' Rhett began, before emitting a sharp groan when her fingertips flickered softly across the very top of him. 'Have you ever done this before?'

Scarlett scrunched her nose up in distaste, the thought of doing such a thing to either Charles of Frank filling her with a nauseous sort of horror.

Rhett chuckled darkly at her expression, the fire burning in his eyes seeming to grow hotter still at the assurance that he would be the first to receive such treatment.

'Let me show you,' he said gently, reaching down to cup her hand in his larger one. He pushed against the backs of her fingers, encouraging her to curve her hand until it made a loose fist around him. He pushed further, causing her to tighten her hold on him, and sighed. 'Now, move your hand like this,' he instructed, showing her how to slide her hand across the length of him, back and forth in a steady rhythm.

'Like that?' Scarlett asked, keeping up the motion when his his own hand fell away to fist the rumpled sheets.

'Yes, just like that,' he said, watching her with wide, wondering eyes. Scarlett flushed slightly under his scrutiny, but did not slow her hand. She wanted to watch him come apart. He felt strange beneath her palm, hardness encased by softness; a mass of contradictions. The only thing she could think to compare it to was the time when, needing to make a dress splendid enough to capture his attention, she had torn down her mother's curtains. The feel of the steely curtain rod, solid and unyielding, beneath the plush, deliciously smooth velvet of the curtains was the closest she had ever come to experiencing such a sensation as she was now.

Encouraged by Rhett's responses, she grew bolder, moving her hand across him faster, and revelling in the sounds it tore from his lips. She saw his fingers twitch, as if they would reach for her, before he buried them beneath his pillow, clamping his head down over them as if to rid himself of the temptation of touching her.

'Scarlett,' he breathed, repeating her name over and again almost helplessly, his mouth hanging open as if he had been stripped of the ability to close it. His legs were moving restlessly, his hips beginning to pump upwards to meet the downward stroke of her hand. His chest was a field of red, the flush starting at his neck and working its way down towards his navel. She had never seen him look so unbridled, so close to tearing off the curb bit and losing all semblance of control.

The thought of unleashing such an unknown force terrified her almost as much as it appealed to her, yet she could not bring herself to slow down, much less stop. It was too thrilling. The power of having him under her like this, completely at her mercy, was the sweetest form of addiction that she had ever known, and she feared she may never be able to give it up, no matter the ramifications.

She realised now, too late, that she had been a fool to think she could do this and remain unaffected. Even now, as her hand began to cramp and her wrist gave a sharp stab of pain, she could not bring herself to stop. She wanted this every bit as much as Rhett did. Perhaps more.

She wanted to watch him break, and know that she was the only one capable to doing such a thing to him. His words from earlier came back to her now, taking on a new, stronger meaning. ' _Watch yourself come undone,_ ' he had said, _'and never doubt who it is that's doing this to you.'_

She found herself wanting him to do the same. 'Don't,' she ordered sharply when she saw him attempting to close his eyes. He was too far gone to hear her and so she squeezed lightly him to regain his attention, earning herself a startled gasp. Obediently, his eye flew open, and he stared up at her dazedly with as unguarded an expression as she had ever seen emblazoned across his features.

'I'm close,' he said, looking at her almost pleadingly. Though his words were foreign to her, their meaning was all too clear. His breath was growing short now, leaving his throat in ragged, uneven bursts, his hips thrusting up almost desperately into her fist. Remembering how he had reacted earlier, Scarlett adjusted her grip and used her thumb to sweep across the top of him on every upstroke, rubbing it through the sticky wetness she found there.

It proved to be Rhett's undoing. With a harsh groan he curled in on himself, his every muscle grown taut and straining. His member throbbed in her hand, jerking as it painted his stomach with his essence. Scarlett's eyes widened as she watched, a trill of fear mixing with something that felt a lot like victory. It was enough to hold her in place while he arched and then settled, keeping her on the bed when part of her yearned to run away and hide.

Now that the sudden madness that has gripped her had passed, she feared the consequences of her actions. Surely, Rhett would think less of her now? Wives were into supposed to engage in marital relations in order to beget children, nothing more. Yet she had just voluntarily touched him in a way that made such an outcome impossible. She worried he would think her base now, a provider of coarse services. That he would deem her no different to those awful women employed at the Watling establishment to do much the same thing.

'Scarlett,' he said hoarsely when she ducked her head against her rising shame, repeating her name until she had no choice but to look up.

'Thank you,' he said simply, his tone not belittling or callous, but disconcertingly earnest.

Blushing to her roots, Scarlett jerked her head in a hasty nod, looking away. Her gaze fixed solely on the floor, she did not see him reach for her, and shrieked when he all but tackled her down onto the mattress.

'Hush, my pet,' he cautioned, chuckling. 'We do not want to wake the servants.'

Scarlett scowled, thinking that he was a fine one to talk given the sort of noises he'd been making this last quarter of an hour. It was a miracle that Mammy, Pork and company hadn't all come storming into the room, fearing they were being attacked. She did not say as much, but her thoughts must have shown in her eyes, for Rhett smirked mischievously and tickled her waist in retribution.

Slapping his hands away, she curled up on her side, yawning. Rhett pulled her into his side and wrapped her hair across his throat, a shade more tightly than usual. 'Sweet dreams, my dear,' he crooned, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Scarlett smiled and cuddled closer to his warmth, confident that it would be enough to shield her from any further nightmares.


End file.
